


Sherlock And A Woman

by R_Salie



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Action, F/M, Fluff, Gen, John's thoughts, Not Irene Adler, Post Reichenbach, Romance, Sherlock had a drug problem, Sherlock in Love, Sherlock's Past, Violence, What happened after Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-12
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2017-11-28 23:23:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 65,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/680035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/R_Salie/pseuds/R_Salie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and a woman - Story of how Sherlock met a woman almost as clever as he was and went to a date and what happened after that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, I’ve written fan fiction. I haven’t done that since my days of being fascinated by Harry Potter and that was so many years ago. I have never written fan fiction in English, which is not my first language. I am sorry for any errors, any misspelled words and the lack of commas. 
> 
> Edit: The spelling and my English does get better during the story...
> 
>  
> 
> I don’t own the rights of the characters.

It was one of those days. Being lied all day at insurance agency’s office was making it easier to see people as annoying as they were. That work place wasn’t doing any favours for me. Okay, it looked really good in CV but that was it. I deserved something better, but as just graduated it was difficult to find anything better with this economy, though I looked for something better all the time. I popped to a Tesco on my way to home. I wanted to cook a proper meal for once since I wasn’t going out tonight because Charlie was out of town. I just wanted to relax with a class of wine and maybe watch a stupid Friday nights late night TV quizzes or a movie. I thought about going back to university, to study master’s degree on behavioral sciences or maybe to study social sciences, but it all needed money. So for now only enjoyment I got was from that meal and class of wine after. I picked up the metallic basket and started thinking what I needed.

I really needed a good laugh with Charlie, but she was at the cousin’s wedding were she had left earlier at that morning. The shift at Berkele Insurances had been quite enough to my nerves. Talking to people at the office premises at that desk was something I didn’t really have words to describe. It was awfully boring. I could see almost every time they lied, said something had happen to their car and it wasn’t really their fault. Like sure it wasn’t. I couldn’t really roll my eyes in front of clients. It wasn’t my job to criticise them for lying. I was just there to write their accident reports. I felt that I was far too clever for that job. I really was. 

That Tesco was open almost every minute of the day, only time I wanted to go there when it wasn’t open was that night after I finished moving all my stuff to my flat and I did have anything to eat. So no grocery shopping at 4am. But moving there at that part of London had been my dream for long. I really felt like a Londoner not like a tourist. It had taken all my years at the university and that very first job that I now had to make me feel like I wasn’t just about to leave, I really lived here. The aisle towards to bread selection was always at first, it had been looking the same for the summer. Packets of toast after one and another, I really wanted some rye bread instead of toast but I still picket a small pack of toast. I took some fruits and ingredients to meal for the evening. I wished I didn’t have to cook just for me. I felt alone there, in the city of millions and in middle of people. But I wasn’t like them and I knew it and somehow I felt that others could feel it too, at least sometimes.

On that moment I saw the man. 

By the milk counter he was holding two green labelled bottles of milk, looking a bit disoriented. I smiled in side of my mind. He looked like he knew that it was the green milk he was supposed to buy but he wasn’t sure which brand. He wasn’t the one buying the milk normally, he didn’t like to go to grocery stores or buying things that weren’t a necessity. He disliked of being around people in there. Looking at so many things others had touched. He was wearing a well fitted wool coat open on top of a fitted suit, without a tie. The suit was a design label worth at least one of my pay checks. He was beautiful. Handsome was too raw word to describe him. 

I had admitted to myself that I enjoyed observing people, their looks, guessing their stories and backgrounds, somehow that even made my work more boring that it was. I knew what sort of people they were. 

I picked up a strawberry yogurt to my basket and looked him from cornet of my eye. I felt so stupid doing it, but I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to see him, to have a better look of his face. But I was a bit surprised to meet his eyes. He smiled, he knew. I felt so silly. We stared at each other, neither saying a word. His eyes were looking me, observing, not just looking. And I observed him.

His almost black curly hair was a little damp by the rain sweeping the streets of London. But his coat only had some rain drops fallen to it. He hadn’t walked long. First I thought that he might have taken a cap to the store, but then I noticed that his trousers legs were a bit wet, he had stepped into a small puddle while in his mind was in other place. That didn’t happen very often, stepping to puddles I mean, he was careful about his appearance but at the same time he didn’t want to be bothered about it. 

He wasn’t normally doing any shopping at all, buying the milk was some kind of experiment as well as a favour to someone. A boyfriend? Girlfriend? No, he wouldn’t have stared at me like that if that was the case. Maybe a roommate, that’s more likely. 

Then I started to think what he wanted, what I wanted. And I could feel it. I realised that he could notice it too. We were alike, so much alike. He noticed the reason why I wore that hideous sweater that day. I could see that he realised it. I wanted to get to know to him.  
He wanted to know me. Better than just observing. I could see that now he wasn’t that bored as he had been while guessing between two milks. 

I could sense that he wanted to see me, to see me in a date. 

Tonight? Yes, that’s right. 

I looked at my basket and him. I want to cook for you. I really do, I thought. I want to watch you eat and not to look so skinny. 

He would come. 

Time? That was a bit more difficult to deduce. Not too early and not too late. Eight? Hmmm. No that’s was too precise, he wanted to give me a little challenge. Eight thirty more likely, yes, that’s it.

He would know my address by then. I smiled again to him and he smiled back, then he left to self-service cashier to pay for the milk. I looked after he vanished outside of Tesco turning to left.

I felt so amazed by that little meeting. I couldn’t quite grasp the idea of what just had happened. I felt somewhat proud of what I could gather and said without a word. He of course had been so much better at it. He had even been able to observe me while a so slowly deduced everything. Compered to him I felt so stupid and slow, but I could feel that we were so alike in so many ways. 

But then it came, the nervousness. I had a date tonight, with an absolutely beautiful man, someone who was way out of my league. 

\--

Sherlock was standing at the kitchen with the milk when John came to living room. “You bought the milk?” John asked with a bit of surprise at his voice.

“Yes. After doing that I can’t see why you couldn’t buy it as you used to”, Sherlock replied.

“I thought that you wouldn’t understand the point. Never mind”, John said.

“Actually it was quite refreshing going to the store”, Sherlock said. “I met someone.”

“Well there usually are people at the store. Did you remember to pay for the milk?” John said.

“Of course I did. I mean I met a woman”, Sherlock said.

“You met the woman”, John asked. “But isn’t she dead?”

“I said I met a woman “, Sherlock said annoyed. 

“Oh. So you met a specific woman. Is there a reason why you mentioned that woman“, John asked.

“Well, I assumed that we usually share this kind of things. At least you do. I have a date with her tonight”, Sherlock said.

“I’m sorry, what? Did you say that you have a date tonight?” John couldn’t believe his ears.

“Yes, that’s what I said“, Sherlock said. 

”I thought that you never dated”, John said surprised.

“I normally don’t date. That doesn’t meant that I don’t date at all”, Sherlock replied.

“Well, I guess not. I wasn’t just expecting this. What was she like”, John asked then.

“She was cleaver, a quick thinker. Very observing and even had a sense of humour. Not to mentioned she didn’t have to say or ask anything to understand”, Sherlock said. 

“How can you tell that when you didn't even change a word”, John asked.

“It’s easily deduced from her facial expressions and rhythm of breath. She was also wearing a hideous sweater just for sake of it”, Sherlock said.

“So all of you date is based upon things you both have observed upon one and another”, John said.

“Yes. That’s correct. But she is relying more to people’s feelings and thoughts of live and act upon others than in a clear gathering of clues”, Sherlock said and left to his room.

John wasn’t quite sure what to think. In some way he was nervous about Sherlock’s date, about the fact that he had an actual date with a woman. Did Sherlock even know how to behave on a date? John remember too well how Sherlock had disturbed his dates and scared his dates so that none of them lasted, there was Sarah, but that they were more on the friends zone now. John somehow even missed it, going to a date, to be a bit too nervous and wondering different outcomes of the forthcoming date. But now John had occasional dates with Sarah and both of them knew the outcome already when they settled upon the date, there was no surprise in there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Next chapter will follow soon. I'll hope that you will leave a comment. :)


	2. The Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They meet again and happens after that.

I started cleaning a bit of our apartment, the kitchen and my room especially. Then I had a shower and washed my hair with a strawberry scented shampoo. I tried to feel a little more relax by it the idea of cooking to someone else. It wasn’t really something I did often, cooking a proper meal to others. The meal was quite simple to make, just add up all the ingredients and put the dinner in the oven. It was based upon to a dish from my home country, but it was my version of it, a little easier to make. I had time to choose my clothes, do my make-up and curled my hair a bit. I didn’t want to look too dressed up or look too feminine or the housewife type. If it had been anyone but him I think it might have been misinterpret, but he wouldn’t. 

Then I realised it. I didn’t know his name, his age, his profession. I hardly knew a thing about him and he was coming to my apartment. Somehow it was scary, but he couldn’t really be that bad. He couldn’t be criminal or anything. He was so unbelievable smart and look like he had a good upper-class background so it couldn’t really be that bad. 

Now it was almost the time. I checked my reflection from foyers mirror above the small dresser. I look quite red cheeked but I smiled to the reflection. I wanted to see that beautiful mystery man, to know more about him, to know him in a way that acquired more knowledge on deducing the facts. I felt somehow quite vulnerable, like I had open a box that I shouldn’t that I wasn’t repaired to. But I wanted to learn more, I wanted to develop this newfound skill. But moreover I wanted to get to know to him. 

There was a buzz from the downstairs outdoor, I pushed the open button and waited for knock on the door. I heard steps at stairwell. He was taking them two at time, but still not running them. Then I heard a slide knock on the doorframe. I waited five seconds and opened it. 

He was standing there, just as beautifully handsome as at Tesco. He smiled, it was the most perfect smile I had seen, it made my toes curl.

“Hi”, he said. 

“Please come in, I was expecting you”, I said to him. I took his coat to coatrack and guided him to our kitchen/living room. 

“Your accent, I wasn’t expecting that. I guess there is always something”, He said.

“I’m not going to tell you where it’s from” I said and giggled a little. I felt so dump.

“Oh, I forgot to introduce myself. Sherlock Holmes”, He said.

“That’s extraordinary name. I am Elisa Berg”, I said.

“Really nice to meet you Elisa”, Sherlock said.

Sherlock had brought a bottle of red wine with him. I served it with the food. Sherlock walked around the flat. Touched things, I saw how he was deducing things from objects. We sited at the table, Sherlock opposite to me.

“Your flatmate is gone only for the weekend for some family matter”, Sherlock said.

“Yes, she’s at her cousin’s wedding” I said even though I wasn’t quite sure where he had deduced that. 

“It almost obvious” Sherlock said “She had written wedding to your calendar and still she was gone for the weekend altogether. It must be a family matter near her home or otherwise she wouldn’t be gone the whole weekend.”

“You really see so much more than I do”, I said.

“You could get better at it”, Sherlock said.

“Well, I have a full time job unlike you and not a trust fund behind me” I said.

“I still you get more than most of the people” Sherlock said and looked at me. The look was meaningful but still trying to find something in me.

“From the first moment I saw you I knew you were something extraordinary”, I said.

“No, you knew it when I looked at you”, Sherlock said.

“Silly, someone as beautiful as you must be something special” I said, maybe saying too much. 

“Looks can be deceptive” Sherlock said. “Still it doesn’t hide the fact that you’re from somewhere Scandinavia. You’ve lived here for couple of years, studied here. Is it Sweden or Norway?” Sherlock asked. “Or don’t tell.”

“I won’t tell”, I promised. “I wouldn’t want to steal away that pleasure what deducing gives to you”.

“So you feel it too”, Sherlock said, didn’t ask. There was no reason to ask that, he already knew to answer.

“I’m quite new at this”, I said. 

“Oh, but you’re getting better by every minute”, Sherlock praised.

“It’s only because of you”, I said.

“I never felt anything like this with anyone. Not even with John, this is different”, Sherlock said.

John was his flatmate, someone he respected and even like to spend time with him when most of the other people were annoyance to him. John was his friend.

“You don’t normally have this good manner with people”, I said after figuring that out.

“No. With you I want to make the effort. I like you”, Sherlock said. He really meant it.

“I know“, I said even though I didn’t need to. It was like we didn’t need to change a word to know what other one was going to say. But still we made the effort.

He poured another class of wine to me and himself. It was good wine, expensive. 

“You’re worth it, don’t worry. Besides I nicked it from my brother”, Sherlock said.

“I knew that you hadn’t bought it by yourself. That would be too much of effort”, I laughed a little.

“You are really good at this”, Sherlock said then praising me again. It felt so good to hear something like that when he was saying it.

“I hear people lying to me every day at work”, I said.

“But still you dislike your work and find it boring”, Sherlock said.  
“It really is. I’m only doing it for the money”, I said.

“And for the CV. You must find something better, your brain will only suffer there and it’s not developing you enough”, he said.

“Don’t I know”, I said with bit of laughter in my voice.

Sherlock had almost eaten all that was in his plate. “What is this? Is it from you home country, it must be”.

“I can’t really reveal the name without you deducing where I’m from”, I said.

“It’s good either way”, Sherlock said and took a little more. “It’s Scandinavia but those languages sound all so same. It’s a tricky one”.

“Want a bit of help”, I asked already knowing the answer, but still I said; “I speak three languages”.

“That doesn’t really help. But if you count your almost perfect English then you must speaks one extra language, besides or mother tongue, but it wasn’t your choice to learn it. Not at the beginning“, Sherlock said.

“No it wasn’t but that’s all I’m going to help”, I said. I wasn’t quite sure how he knew about my hesitation of learning to speaks Swedish.

I put the dishes to sink and cleared the table leaving only the classes. “You are hard to figure out. I only know so little about you”, I said.

“What do you know”, Sherlock asked.

“Only the obvious things and that’s not a lot”, I said.

“I bet you know more than you realise”, Sherlock said. He picked up our classes and the almost empty bottle and went to sit on a couch. I followed bit cheerful from the wine. He poured rest of the wine and left the empty bottle to living room table. I sat next to him and then he kissed me.

Kiss.

That wasn’t something I had expected at that moment. It was a perfect kiss though. A smooth subtle, gentle kiss. It was an experiment on his side but liked it. I knew he wasn’t like normal men, he wasn’t thinking about sex all the time. Not even when he kissed me. He was just playing with the idea of sharing that side of him with me. I had no objections about that. 

After the kiss he looked me into eyes searched from them what I had felt. Then he put two fingers to my wrist and even that sensation was making my toes curl and making the butterflies fly in my stomach just as well as the moment he had make them fly by the door. I felt my own pulse running and pressed my fingers to his wrist. His pulse wasn’t even either. I felt what he wanted, what I wanted. We liked each other’s company. 

Then I realised something. 

This was almost new to him. Going beyond kissing, the anticipation of a relationship. It was like he hadn’t cared before on anyone. He had been with people but not cared.

We shared another kiss. It was more wanting, long, like it was exploring the limits of just kissing. That was where I was drawing the line tonight, not going further. 

We kissed, snogged, his hands in my face, my hand in his curly hair. He was eager. Passionate after he realised that this was something that his body could want. He liked it, kissing. 

With him it was special. It mend something, it wasn’t just something to do before sex. It was really meaningful way of connecting. It made it somehow possible to see his mind so clearly. 

After a moment we took a pause, went back to a sitting position, his hand still holding mine.

“I had no idea”, he said overwhelmed. “It could be like that”.

“You really don’t have that much experience”, I said.

“I never cared before. It wasn’t something I needed.” Sherlock said. “But even that. It’s like I’m connected to your mind. And feeling what you want and want to give it to you”.

“It so…” I was lacking of words. “You’re older than I. It’s…”

“It’s seems that we have a special connection”, Sherlock said with a bit of smile.

I was looking forward to that. Sherlock left soon, but then kissed me by the door. “This really is nice. Too nice”.

I felt overwhelmed when he left. I just sat in the empty flat and hold my hands on my red cheeks. That had been something I wanted and now I wanted more. I really wanted more. More of that curly haired godlike creature. He had been perfect. More than perfect. I thought for a moment that he must have had some experience, but all his behaviour, except the kissing my lips had told me that he was new at it, feeling it so deeply. He was still actually rather good at it and from that I couldn’t realise the lack of emotion he much had earlier. It wasn’t the way he acted or anything he said, it was something I felt and how I knew. I wasn’t quite sure what to feel about it. It was like I was stealing that god to myself from world and I wasn’t like that. He was older, wiser, all those things. So much better than I was at deducing, but lacked on experience on normal things. Normal things weren’t something in his reach. He didn’t need them so he hadn’t acquired them. That’s what I thought he had meant. Meaningless unimportant things he had deleted from his brain and everyday life. The reason for his being so skinny must be that he just didn’t remember to eat. It wasn’t something he cared about. He didn’t remembered or felt hunger like I for instance. I felt it, how he sometimes imagined not being a human, but he was so much a human. That had surprised him this evening. His own human needs and feelings, he had felt that he needed them. 

I was always felt that more than him, I had always been more able to be with others, not to be so bored with dull untalented people, I had even respected them unlike him. I felt it so deeply, the lack of respect he had for normal people. He saw himself above them in some ways. I admitted I felt that most of people were annoying but it wasn’t half as bad as what he felt. I was angry but it passed. He was special, clever, smart-ass, someone most of people couldn’t stand more than five minutes. It was a mutual feeling for them. Nothing was going to change that. He had found a place in my mind and more profoundly in my heart. 

 

I called to Charlie. 

“Hi! You’re awake still? How’s everything at home”  
“I had a date tonight.”  
“He was amazing. Beautiful, brilliant. He came for dinner.”  
“Yes, he was here.”   
“No, I met him first time today”  
“I don’t think it was a too quick move. Everything went really well”  
“No, he wasn’t looking for things to steal or anything you’re imaging. He has got money.”  
“Yes, he had a posh private school accent. He’s… I don’t even know how to describe him to give him justice”  
“Tall, skinny, well dressed, almost black curly hair, a nose that had been hit at least once.”  
“Because he can be really arrogant sometimes if he wants to. But he’s so unbelievable handsome like some actor or something”  
“No, he wasn’t an actor”  
“No, we just kissed. But that was well worth it.”  
“No, he’s not again, not every man wants that”  
“Well he doesn’t. You should just meet him and you would understand”  
“I don’t know yet. I hope we will.”  
“Okay, go to sleep now, talk to you tomorrow”.

\--

John was watching TV at their living room while Sherlock got back. John had just wondered about going to sleep, but decided to watch until the end of the episode. Sherlock hung his coat John was watching his reflection from the window. 

“How was it”, John couldn’t keep his tongue.

“I learnt a lot about her. It was something quite unique”, Sherlock said.

“Well, that’s an odd description on a date”, John said to telly.

“I guess it was fun, relaxing. Somehow better than I was expecting”, Sherlock said then.

John was having a hard time believing that it really was Sherlock saying those things about a woman he met and went a date with. “Are you going to see her again”, John managed to ask then.

“I supposed so. At least I would like to”, Sherlock said.

John was stunned. He didn’t want to bully Sherlock about this woman or to ask too many questions. Hell, he wasn’t even sure did he wanted to know anything about her or the date they had had. 

“We kissed”, Sherlock said then.

“That’s enough”, John said then. “I don’t want to hear more”.

John watched his friend then making tee to himself. As unordinary as that act was, it was even more disturbing to see Sherlock sitting with that tea mug in his chair with an expression on his face. It wasn’t clear to read. It wasn’t something John had Sherlock often seemed to have. Sherlock seemed to be searching and reflecting his feelings, Sherlock was having a real emotion towards a woman. It was nothing like what John had assumed Sherlock had felt something towards the woman, this date had make Sherlock behave oddly, it was almost as his friend was broken. Like his toy was broken and he wanted to return it to the store and get a repletion back, the same thing but without those feelings.

John wasn’t really envy for Sherlock but he was worried. He wasn’t quite sure but imagined that Sherlock didn’t have that much experience in these kinds of matters. He was afraid that a woman was playing with Sherlock without realising it. 

“John, don’t look so alarmed. I haven’t lost my mind though I went on a date and had fun”, Sherlock said. 

“I’m not”, John tried to lie.

“You should meet her. She is something quite unique”, Sherlock said.

It was so weird that Sherlock wanted to share something like that with John. It wasn’t like they had talked about women before they had just always been John’s dates. 

“You only just had one date, I doubt she would like to see your flatmate on next one”, John said.

“I don’t think she would even mind. We were so alike in so many ways”, Sherlock said.

“You seem to be crazy over her”, John said then talking to telly once more. He couldn’t look at Sherlock’s disturbing look at his face. It was like wasn’t Sherlock’s face at all. 

“I’m never crazy about anything. You know that”, Sherlock said. 

“I guess I do”, John wanted to say he did, but he didn’t think Sherlock would have liked it very much.

It was that green eyed monster talking with a thong of a snake. It was slithering with images and words, making feelings go all wrong. 

John couldn’t stand at being in the living room with Sherlock right then. It was too much to handle. He had got used to thinking his flatmate as someone who just didn’t have that kind of feelings. And now this was somehow so disturbing, thinking of Sherlock kissing someone who he had met at that very same day. Why did he even though about that? It didn’t matter! I really didn’t he has said Sherlock that everything was wine on that time at Angelo’s. But things had changed since Sherlock had got back almost six months after the fall. 

The fall had changed everything. Sherlock didn’t want any of his detective work to make to the press but there was no way to stop it since John wrote about it to his blog. Sherlock didn’t really like that and he really didn’t like that image of him wearing the famous hat. Deerstalker as it was. 

John sat on a side of his bed. The now it was almost a year after the fall. It was still so hard for John. He admitted that only himself, he still sometimes saw his therapist, but not as often as he used to. He was slowly getting over his best friend’s death and coming back alive. Sherlock had explained it, all the reasons for it. The snipers and everything but that didn’t make it easier to handle. John was all the time worried about Sherlock, never wanted him to do anything dangerous. But that was like telling a child not to do something and child did it anyway. Sherlock was just like that. He had already ones saved Sherlock live is from the return. Sherlock didn’t even bother to thank him. Mycroft did but that wasn’t something John wanted. 

John felt that he had lost some of the connection he had with Sherlock earlier. It was like earlier they were companions, shared everything and now they were best friends. It was almost the same but only almost, things had changed over those six months Sherlock had been death. Now a days John worked more at the clinic than he did earlier, Sherlock solved the crimes more alone. Maybe it was that what was missing. But John didn’t miss that fear he felt every time Sherlock was in danger that’s why he could solve crimes with Sherlock so often. But he missed the adrenaline rush that came with it. 

Sherlock was playing the violin at downstairs. It was some new tune, he was composing. He hadn’t done that for a long time. Sherlock composed when he wanted to something to help him to think. The sound was quite calm but suddenly it went to a higher note, was faster, then calmed again, wrapped still around something familiar. Some of the base of it was somehow familiar, it reminded of John of some other song Sherlock used to play, but this one was more vivid, more playful. 

The day was over. John fell asleep with that new song on the background.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! :)


	3. The Park And The Russians

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second date and some deducing.

I got a text on a next day. Were he had got my number was a mystery, but I didn’t mind. It was a small note. 

“Regents park at 2? At the bridge.   
SH”

I was happy about that text. The weather looked even a bit better than yesterday and we settled upon the date, our second one. I knew it was more than a date, in was an learning experiment for both of us. 

The sun was even shining a little bit when I begin to walk there. It wasn’t the closest park to me, but it was more beautiful. I had spent there my day offs during summer weather. He must have known I preferred that park. We met on that bridge. He walked from opposite direction to my way. HE looked as handsome as yesterday. His curly hair was even shining a little bit at the sun’s touch. He smiled when he came to me with his coat open. “Hi there. I knew you would know which bridge I mend”, he said.

Of course I had known. It was the most beautiful and most quietest one. “It wasn’t that hard to know”, I said.

We leaned to the railing of bridge for a moment in silence looking at each other and the water and all the birds and grass in the wind. You could hear so much. For ones you could hear the nature in the city.

“Now you know why I like this park the best”, Sherlock said.

“It’s for different reason for I do”, I said.

“I know”, he said. “Can you here that all? Observe.”

 

I could hear the natural sounds, birds, the water and grass in the wind. Walkers and joggers nearby. Children at their swings across the bridge. The police car’s siren at streets. I could hear the city and the nature, but what was the sound he mend?

I looked at him. “It’s your breathing”, Sherlock said. “It calms in here.”

I smiled. I hadn’t listed close enough but I had heard so much more than the first time.

“It does the same for you”, I said. “But you enjoy the city more than I.”

“I would guess so since you haven’t lived in big city before moving to England”

He could tell that so easily. “But you lived in countryside also when you were younger”

“Then I was really young after that I went to boarding school with my brother”, he said.

“That’s quite obvious”, I said. 

“I can’t help the accent like you try to hide that way you pronounce some words in more American way than you want to”, he said.

“It’s ridiculously annoying. I am trying to get rid of that, but it’s so much easier”, I said.

“I still haven’t figured out which one of the Nordics it is. It’s not Iceland or Denmark, that leaves three options”, Sherlock said.

“You could check my Facebook page” I said.

“That wold be cheating”, he said, even though he both knew he would never do that and he smiled and took my hand to his.

“You should wear mittens or something, your fingers are frozen”, he said.

“It doesn’t really matter. It’s not that cold for me”, I said. “This weather is normal to… to my country during the summer months”.

“Let’s go and get some coffee, that’ll warm up your hands”, Sherlock said.

 

We walked to the way he had come from and there was a tiny coffee place, a small enough not to have chair in doors but you could order your coffee and drink it at the park bench. That’s where I waited for him. My coffee was black, dark and almost bitter. He had known. I did warm up my hands. 

“With you can feel what others want, what they need. And for some reason I care about that. I haven’t before”, Sherlock said.

“We enhance each other”, I said.

“I don’t even know that’s possible. It’s not even disturbing my thinking it’s just making it broader”, he said.

So his work was about thinking. It was the most important… No his friends were. That was it. He cared more about his friends than his work. That was the one thing above his work and intellect. 

“I really enjoy this”, I said. I really mend it. Sitting there at that bench next to him was perfect. His hand in mine, we sensed each other’s pulse and rhythm of breath. I watched him sipping his coffee and I knew it was something special, this connection we had. 

The air at park was crispy, autumn was closing by. It was really nice time of the year. It always had had a special meaning to me. 

 

We chatted about things as ordinary as you chatted with at normal date, but this wasn’t a normal date, we both knew it. It felt like we were talking and really mend something else with it. The talk wasn’t necessary. Then I said it, asked he to talk about himself.

“I don’t normally do that”, he said.

“I want to know how you see yourself”, I said.

“There isn’t a lot to tell. It’s not interesting”, he said.

“I think you are interesting”, I had to say that obvious think thing to him.

“Not that interesting, I find you much more interesting”, Sherlock said.

“But you know so much more about me than I can deduce about you”, I said.

“Very well then”, Sherlock said. “I’ll tell you something you might already know”. 

“I’m a consulting detective. I do it just for fun, mostly for Scotland Yard. I live with a flatmate. I went to those posh schools just as you though”, Sherlock said then without taking breathe anxious to get it over with. 

“Well I didn’t know exactly what you do. That’s sounds so interesting. How old are you?” I asked, that was the only thing I wasn’t quite sure about.

“I am older than you think. I never think about it. It doesn’t matter”, Sherlock said.

“It doesn’t matter”, I said, he looked young, maybe late 20’s early 30’s. “But you know how old I am”.

“I know your date of birth”, Sherlock said, “Age is irrelevant”.

I was clad he agreed upon that. I didn’t really feel that our age cap was relevant, only way I saw it was that he was smarter and quicker thinker than I could ever be. And he knew it. I would always be like that I would only be as almost as good as he was.

 

“The way I don’t need to share everything with words with you is one of a kind. The last persons that I had this with were my archenemies”, he said. 

“Archenemies”, I asked.

“Yes”, he didn’t see it necessary to explain. 

“Okay, I might understand that with your work being what it is.” I said.

“It should all be behind”, Sherlock said.

“But you are still dealing with danger” I said, I could see that.

“It’s something I can’t seem to avoid”, he said. “Look at that couple by the trees”.

I sipped my coffee and glanced at them. Tall woman and medium build man. Clearly they were taking a late lunch break. But they were not co-workers. Or a couple. They kept their distance and she looked a bit annoyed by him. The man was dressed in a suit that didn’t fit well. The woman was dressed better. A good quality coat and brand bag. Chanel, one from couple years back. She used it almost every day, she had others but this one gave her courage. She was scared but tried to cover it up not very successfully. I could see that she had cried earlier on that day.

The man was blackmailing her.

“How long have you known”, I asked from Sherlock.

“Good,” Sherlock said.

“But why”, I asked. Why was he blackmailing her?

“Think, observe”, he said. This was a test to me.

I took another sip of coffee and looked. She had an envelope at her bag. A big envelope. Money inside, I suspected. I couldn’t see the point. I felt nervous. A bit embarrassed. I couldn’t see it. Why? Why was the man blackmailing her? I needed to take third look and sip of coffee soon turning cold. The man was leaving already. Woman crabbed his hand pain in her face. 

“I don’t know. It’s something personal”, I said to Sherlock. I wasn’t good enough.

“You’re right, it’s personal. You got more than I thought you would, don’t look so upset”, he said. “Come on, let’s follow the man”. He said and stood up hand in mine. I had no choice than follow. Sherlock throw his coffee cup to the pin, so did I. This was exciting. “I normally take John with me, but today he had to work at the clinic”, Sherlock said while we walked after the man. We looked like a normal couple on a walk at the park.

“So you knew this was going to happen when you texted to me”, I said.

“Yes, her husband hired me to investigate why she had become so distant. She is trying to hide that she had an affair and the tapes are something to blackmail her about. He was a high placed in government and they are still in a relationship even though both of them are married, she just has more to lose” Sherlock spoke quietly with soft voice, nearly whispering. 

“Why are we following him, is he going to give the tapes back”, I already knew the answer. We wouldn’t be following them if he was going to do that.

“He is going to his boss with the money. Russian mafia has a very clear rules and orders. They always follow The Code”, Sherlock said. 

The Russian was walking more quickly. 

“Let’s take an shortcut”, Sherlock said, we turned from the next corner to right, so it wouldn’t be so obvious that we were following the man.

 

Sherlock knew where he was going. He must have known a great deal about the organisation. I saw that he was thinking it hard, a quicker route to the place. We stepped out of the park to the street and walked to closest bus stop. A bus pulled there just as we stepped under the shelter. Double-decker didn’t wait that many passenger, the next bus was already coming in few minutes. We stayed at downstairs standing and holding tightly from a pole. Sherlock stood behind of me, his hand slightly above mine, almost hugging me. He spoke to me in soft voice.

“I like this strawberry thing. You’re holding to summer”.

And I really was. On that minute I realised how naïve liking that strawberry sentenced shampoo and perfume made me. I was still holding so on the image of me being young, a student, I needed to let go of it. “I need to find something new”, I said.

“You want something more exciting, cause that’s what you are”, Sherlock said. 

It felt unbelievably good. His words made my spine shiver. He moved his hand on top of mine and I could barely breathe. I forgot everyone around us, the movement of the buss, the big city’s hustle. I only heart his heartbeat, it was more excited, but his breathing was slow, calming. His hand was warm. He was standing so close, but not touched, except his hands, other holding mine and the pole and other in my free hand. I felt the connection so strongly. So did he. I heard his breathing pattern changing for a moment. There were no words. 

 

Then he left my hand and pressed the stop button. I follow him do the door hand back in his. We jumped of the buss and I wasn’t quite sure in which street we were. But he knew the street, he had paid attention. “I’m sorry. You took all my attention”, I said.

“It’s just a couple streets away, nearer Paddington station”, Sherlock said. 

I only knew the station and few streets around it. I wasn’t able to remember streets of London like he did. We walked again, to end of the road, then to right, next left and then one long road and then right again. We went to a local small bookshop. The owner thought that we were tourist and I lost my quickly learnt somewhat English accent and used my own. Said that we were just looking and the owner left us alone. Sherlock kept an I the street, I was glancing the books, but following his every move. “Two countries left”, he said to me. 

“Which are”, I asked.

“If I’ll tell them to you, you’ll react and I’ll know then, so I won’t”, Sherlock said eyes on a road but holding a book about medieval costumes. 

“I have a copy of that”, I said.

“Yes I noticed. It was on your living room shelf. I wondered then why you had it, but it must have been yours for some special reason.” Sherlock had noticed.

“It was a gift from a family where I used to babysit. The children picket it up for me”, I said.

“You want children”, Sherlock said. It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. 

“I don’t know. Not for many years”, I knew I was lying. He knew I was lying. I wanted a job and a family. I hoped for them in my heart but never even mentioned it to Charlie or anyone.

Sherlock said nothing about that, kept his eyes in the road. “Let’s go. Now I know the building.”

“What’s next”, I asked.

“The rest is for police”, Sherlock said outside the shop.

“You are lying”, I said, I could see it.

“So where you”, he said.

“I’m not in that place in my life”, I said.

“That you might actually mean”, he said.

“You are going to do something illegal or dangerous”, I said.

“Probably both”, Sherlock said and kept an eye on the number 28’s third floor windows.

“You want me gone”, I said, though I mend to ask.

“Yes. It’s not safe”, he said his eyes then in mine.

“I won’t go”, this newly found connection with him made me do stupid things.

“I know you won’t. But you must. I can’t rely on you that much”, he said.

It wasn’t insulting, it was just the truth, we barely knew, but still it hurt a bit. That was just his nature, he could predict the way people would react his sayings. 

“Oh, I hurt you”, he saw it.

“It doesn’t matter”, I said. “I understand it”.

“You are… No, your feelings are easier to read to me than others”, Sherlock said. Weather that was a good thing or not it made me feel a bit better. 

“I can go if you really want that” I said and watched him, his eyes, lips, those lines under nose. I read the answer from there. 

“Okay”, I said. “Text me or something. Please, be safe”.

Sherlock kissed me to forehead and touched my cheek with his thump. He said goodbye in a way that made be a bit scared for his sake. I walked toward closet bus station and watched him disappearing to a cap. He wanted me to be safe, that was why he sent me away. I sat on next buss, changed it ones and got quite near my flat. 

 

It was past the afternoon, early evening. I waited Charlie to come home so that I could tell her so much. But I would tell all. Some parts of it were still unclear to me. I couldn’t really tell Charlie about the blackmailing or all the things he made me notice, how I learn to deduce. But I could talk about his appearance, his voice, the way he made me feel. I felt so girly and foolish and giggled a little bit by myself. I made a cup of tea and tried to relax. Somehow spending time whit him was so overwhelming. I had to use so much of my brain that just now I needed to relax and calm down and do something that didn’t require any thinking. So I sat down to sofa with a tea mug and fell a sleep for a moment.

\--

John was just coming back to Baker street from the clinic when he noticed Sherlock stepping inside of their front door. For ones he seemed to remember taking the key with him. John didn’t yell after Sherlock to keep the door open or walked any waster. John wasn’t really in any hurry to getting back to their flat. He had told Sarah at the clinic about Sherlock’s date. Sarah had been more curious than he. But that had awaken John’s curiosity. John wanted to know more about a woman that had made Sherlock to compose a new tune, still clearly a work in progress, but it was something meaningful. John was a bit worried of course. He had to be after the way Sherlock had acted after the woman’s death. 

John was just about to find his key to their flat when a black car stopped at the street. John sighed. Anthea opened the door. “He is waiting”, she said.

“For once could he just come and visit or just leave me alone and speak straight to Sherlock”, John said.

“You could ask him”, Anthea said when John stepped inside of the car. John never would. 

During the car ride Anthea kept touching her blackberry, probably a text after another. 

Car took him to Mycroft’s club, John knew which door to find, were to go. 

“John, good of you to came”, Mycroft said, “please, sit down”

John sat, “Get to the point I want to go home”.

“Hard day at the clinic”, Mycroft said, “I want to talk to you about my brother”.

“What this time”, John asked. He had spoken to Mycroft so many times about Sherlock. He still remembered the first time they had met. 

“That woman”, Mycroft said.

“I doubt I know more about her than you already do”, John said. He wasn’t surprised that Mycroft knew about her.

“How is Sherlock?” Mycroft asked. 

“I don’t know”, John said. “He’s the same but different”.

“That’s extraordinary. Has he spoken about that woman”, Mycroft asked.

“Why don’t you ask him about her” John said.

“I am asking you.” Mycroft said calmly. “I know all her records. She is just a normal person, nothing extraordinary.”

“That’s not what Sherlock thinks” John said. “He described her as unique for instance”.

Mycroft walked to the window and looked out. “Then there must be something about her, something the records won’t tell”. Mycroft took his phone at the desk and said; “Raise that woman’s surveillance to next level.”

Then he looked back at John. “Did he tell you something else?”

“Is this the way you react to every woman Sherlock dates?” John asked.

“Have you seen him dating before? He doesn’t.” Mycroft said and sat back down to his desk.

“He must have, sometimes”, John said. He hesitated telling to Mycroft about what Sherlock had told to him last night. 

“Years ago maybe, it was meaningless”, was Mycroft’s answer.

“He talked about her a bit. He though that he mend to, like we were supposed to share things like that. Apparently the first time they met on that very day, they didn’t need to change a word to settle upon the date.” John said then, not quite knowing if it was okay to tell that.

Mycroft did say anything. John was annoyed. He wanted to leave and looked outside the darkening evening. “Was there anything else” John asked.

“Was that all he told”, Mycroft asked.

John didn’t want to answer. It was awkward telling those things to Sherlock’s brother. 

“I think he said that she was a quick thinker or something. And that they were alike.” John didn’t say that one thing. That what was something he had never expected Sherlock to be telling him. 

“That’s not all what has happened. They spend today together.” Mycroft told to John. 

“Well he wanted to see her again” John said.

 

Mycroft took a file from his desk, walked to John and gave a photo him. John looked at the photo. It was a bit blurry surveillance photo from a bus but John could still recognise Sherlock. He was standing behind a woman, at least almost a head shorter than he was. Sherlock’s other hand was on top of her, holding the pole as they stood and the other was just holding her hand. She was a brunette like the woman. “Why are you showing this to me”, John asked.

Mycroft gave him a second photo; “That’s the woman. It’s from her Facebook account from this spring”. 

It was a graduation photo. She was young, pretty though, had a nice face and a smile at her eyes. Then Mycroft handed John same screenshots from her Facebook account. 

“As you can see, she is younger”, Mycroft said like it mattered.

John looked curiously the screenshots, she wasn’t even British. That was a bit of a surprise. “How can Sherlock have patience with her”, John wondered.

“She must be a really quick learner and have almost perfect accent”, Mycroft said. “That’s why I’m worried. I think Sherlock might be training her.”

“Training?” John asked. One Sherlock was bad enough.

“I want you to keep eye on Sherlock. So that it won’t go too far”, Mycroft said.

“How do you expect me to do that”, John didn’t wait for an answer. “If not anything else I expect getting a ride home”.

“Car will be waiting”, Mycroft said.

John didn’t want to think about that woman, but he had seen her image. She wasn’t anything special really, a pretty face, classical, with dark eyes and long brown hair. She dressed in a girly way, what John could tell. Probably a sweet normal girl by her looks. He could understand from the pictures what Sherlock saw in her, she was just like anyone. The way Sherlock had spoken about her John had expected her to look more like the woman, like she knew everyone’s secrets. But she didn’t look harmful at all. So look just like a sweet girl from next door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't actually ever been at Regents park so I used my imagination. :) Thank you for reading!


	4. The Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> About having dinner and tea afterwards.

I woke up when Charlie came back home. I guess I looked a bit disoriented when Charlie saw because she asked “Did I wake you, were you taking a nap”.

“No it’s quite alright. I didn’t mend to fall asleep. How was the wedding and journey back to London”, I asked.

Charlie looked quite tired herself, “I’m exhausted. The wedding went fine. They got married and nobody was killed, stabbed or bunched or anything. Everything went smoothly really”.

“Should I order chinese or something?” I asked.

“Let me just show how much leftover food mum made me take with me, that’s plenty for us to eat and while eating you can tell me about that mystery man.” Charlie said. 

I made the table and warmed the dinner while Charlie unpacked her back. 

“So tell me about him. What’s happen since we last spoke?” Charlie asked after first forkful. 

“Well, his name is Sherlock”

“Oh, God, Really!” 

“He’s really clever, has a consulting firm” I didn’t tell what type. “He’s a bit older than I am. Lives with a flatmate and he is most handsome man I have ever seen”.

“Sounds perfect! How much older he is?” Charlie asked then.

“So you didn’t meet anyone cute at the wedding?” I tried to change the topic a bit.

“While I was wearing that hideous pink organza thing, don’t think so. Don’t change the subject. So a lot older” She said.

“Not really. He’s maybe in early thirties, but looks younger though”, I said.

“So you don’t know his exact age”, Charlie said.

“It doesn’t really matter to me or to him”, I said.

“Have you spoken to him after yesterday?” She asked.

“We went out this afternoon. Just for a walk at park and that sort of thing”, I said “We had some coffee”.

“A pretty little date on a park. Did you kept on kissing all the time and disturbed the children by it”, Charlie was acting.

“Well I did have a sip of coffee between the kisses. No we didn’t really kiss. We hold hands and shared our thoughts”, I said.

“Sounds rather romantic. Are you sure he’s not gay?” Charlie asked.

“He’s not, believe me”, he just hadn’t got that sort of connection with anyone before. I didn’t know if he had been labelled as gay or straight or anything between or else, now he cared about me and that what mattered.

“Would that perfect man of your happen to know anyone for me”, Charlie asked.

“He’s not my man. We’re just dating if even that”, I said.

“It sounds so much more, holding hands like that and all. Like you two were serious already”, Charlie said.

I laughed. Serious at the second date. We had a special connection that both of us felt but that didn’t mean really anything. Not now.

\--

“How was dear brother”, Sherlock knew that John had met him.

“The same. I hope that someday I don’t have to be talking on your behalf to him. Settle your arguments and talk to each other like adults”, John wasn’t really demanding it, he knew it would never happen.

“Have his spies been keeping taps on me”, Sherlock asked.

“What else would they do”, John said. “What were you doing today?”

“I went a date with her”, Sherlock said. “I guess you already know that from Mycroft. But I was also working a little.”

“You took her with you? You did that on a date?” John was a bit shocked by that.

“It's where two people who like each other go out and have fun. Wasn’t that something you once said about a date? We did just that. I think we both enjoyed it”, Sherlock said.

“I can’t believe you went to investigate something with a stranger on a date”, John said.

“She’s no stranger. She liked it”, Sherlock told. “And we didn’t really too much, just sat on a park, talked and walked a little and went a small book shop”.

“Went to a book shop”, John asked.

“It was a good place to keep eyen on the street. She was really good cover up”, Sherlock said.

“Is that all that you think of her or use her for? A cover up”, John said.

“No. It’s just was convenient. Why would I not multitask on a date”, Sherlock replied.

John wasn’t still quite sure that Sherlock realized the point of a date.

“I did found out new things about the Russian mafia and the whereabouts of its headquarters”, Sherlock said.

“You took your date to a close proximity of the Russian mafia’s headquarters”, John was stunned. “Couldn’t you figure out anything more dangerous or irresponsible?”

“I did send her home when I went inside”, Sherlock said.

“You what?” John couldn’t quite keep his temper.

“She understood”, Sherlock said.

John was almost sure that she wouldn’t speak to Sherlock again and the problem of a woman was solved.

\--

Monday morning came as ordinary as always. Work was even more boring. I thought about quitting but I didn’t have the courage to do it. Sherlock came to meet me at office just when lunch break started. He took me to lunch on a restaurant nearby but he barely ate anything, just kept drinking coffee. 

“You really hated this day”, he said.

“Is it that obvious?” Salad was good and very filling. “You should eat something”.

“I don’t eat when I’m working on a case”, he said.

“You need a bit of energy every now and then. Eat something healthy and slowly burning. That coffee only gives you a false sensation of energy. Your brain needs healthy food.” I had realised that talking about his brain was the key to get him doing something good for himself. I only had a little over half an hour but it made my day. I kept on thinking things he had shown me while I worked and typed down words from others.

 

On the next day I was called to main office. I had never been there, upstairs. A worker, someone like me went there only for one reason. I was going to get fired. That was the only reason I could come up with. But everything had been alright. I was working hard. I was relatively good at my job even though I didn’t pay that much attention to it. I thought things had been good. I apparently I was wrong.

So was I wrong about being fired. I got a promotion. They put me to work with more papers, analysing accident reports. I didn’t know where they had found out about my even to me newly found skills. It was a bit better paid also, but my workmates at downstairs were not happy about it. I hadn’t worked there the longest and already I was promoted. I was surprised by it as well as anyone.

Now my job was to read the reports and either pass them to payment’s department or send them to investigations. It took couple of days to get to know the work, all the papers and weird filing system. But it was definitely better that what I did before, still it wasn’t challenging enough, but I felt that if I could cope there couple of years I could maybe made an investigator and get my career rise from there. Now I even had my own little desk where I could have plant or photo or something of my own. It was still so boring.

 

I didn’t hear from Sherlock for couple of days but on Wednesday lunchtime he texted to me. 

“Dinner tonight? Case solved.  
SH”

I replied and he sent me the address a couple minutes after. It was quite near that Tesco where we first met.

 

I walked down the restaurant and saw Sherlock there by the window table, he always preferred those, it was a good observing place. It was a small family run restaurant. There was a candle at the table, Sherlock seemed to be a regular there. “Do you know admit that you are hungry”, I asked.

“I don’t think about it, but I could eat”, he said.

“You should, you look paler than on Sunday”, I said, it was more easily seen that his paleness was caused of lack of food. “You should take a better care about yourself”.

“It’s all fine, you sound like John”, Sherlock said.

“Then you should believe him”, I noted.

A waiter approached us, “Dear Sherlock. Didn’t you bring that nice doctor with you tonight”. He must have been the restaurant’s owner and know Sherlock very well. “But no, you two must be on a date, let me light up the candle. The dinner is on me tonight”.

He lighted up the candle and left towards the kitchen.

“For once he was right. He keeps assuming that John and I are a couple and lighting up that candle every time.” Sherlock said and laughed.

“Do people often assume that”, I asked.

“Yes for some reason. I don’t really care, but John finds it annoying”, Sherlock said and looked outside.

 

The dinner came without us choosing anything, so did the wine. The wine made Sherlock cheeks blush a bit. I liked how the wine tasted in my tongue. He leaned his leg against mine under the table and kept looking at my eyes. “Now I understand why people find it fascinating to watch others to eat”, he said eyes on mine.

“Why is it then”, I asked.

“Your mouth looks beautiful and when you eat, you don’t realise that I’m looking at you and you look more relaxed”, Sherlock said. “Somehow it’s calming to watch”.

I blushed a bit. I felt his eyes on me, felt his leg slightly against mine. It was perfect. I wanted so much to kiss him after the dinner. At the same time I felt so stupid wanting that. He was perfect there saying nice things. 

The wine was strong though. It made me giggle to his not so funny jokes. It made my observing a bit more difficult. He enjoyed it, looking me getting a bit drunk. “You are even calmer now”, he said when we left the restaurant. He took my hand in his. He had has at least as many classes of wine as I but only thing I could notice was that he looked more glad. 

He holds me close, lifted my jaw a little and kissed me, there in middle of London. Not inside some building where no one could see it, but outside. His soft lips against mine were so wanting, but still the kiss was soft and light. When I opened my eyes I could see that his cheeks were a bit blushed. “I could kiss you ‘till forever”, he said. “It makes my brain numb”. 

He embraced me, arms around me so gently, pulled me even closer, my face against his jacked. His jaw leaning to my head, he kissed my hair and I could feel him saying something, but I couldn’t hear it and I wasn’t mending to hear it. We were so close. I felt his heartbeat, his breaths rhythm. It was the same as mine. We were like one individual for a moment. So close, so alike, so relaxed, and together like a pair of mittens. The same and still different. 

 

We left from that spot holding hands. “Do you want a cup of tea”, Sherlock asked.

He was most definitely was the only man that in fact mend it, it didn’t have a hidden message in it. 

“I wouldn’t mind”, I said.

“I live just down the road. Would that be alright”, he asked.

“Yes”, I almost sighed out the answer. I wanted that.

We walked in silence still feeling our heartbeats being the same. “I know it’s not really down the road”, I said then. “It’s left from that Tesco and then probably one short road where there is building equipment. It is few meters from there, still so far that the building sounds don’t disturb you.”

“You are absolute right. Except for one thing”, Sherlock said.

“The noise bother’s you”, I said then.

Sherlock laughed a little, his soft laugh made me laugh too. So we walked there laughing. The streets of London were like a festival for a minute. Happiness and comfort surrounded us for a moment. I started walking faster and faster and then running so that we couldn’t laugh any longer. But when we stopped we laughed again at his flat’s door. He kissed me quickly and opened the door. 

It was a dark hallway, stairs to upstairs and then the door. He opened it, took my jacket to coat rack. Only the living area was in this floor, bedrooms upstairs and bathroom somewhere there too. It was an old building. I suspected that their landlord lived in the same building. 

 

The living room was dark as well, pictures at walls, books on tables, comfortable sofa, couple of armchairs. One wall was covered with old fashion wallpaper. A mirror above the fireplace and bookshelves on either side. A lot of books, piling on top of each other, under the table, on the table, in chairs. Clutter everywhere. But it wasn’t really dirty. It was just lot of relatively unorganised amounts of stuff.

I leaned to a kitchen counter while Sherlock popped the kettle on. Then he came to me, pressed his hands to the table around me, so that I couldn’t move. I didn’t want to move. He kissed my neck, my cheeks, and my eye lids. He wanted to touch me, it felt so good. I wanted all that he wanted to give me. Then he pressed his nose against mine and I opened my eyes and looked to his eyes. He lifted me to kitchen counter and kissed me so strongly, wanting. The pulse was fastening, breath uneven. His tongue touched mine, I was ready be his in that very minute. He most certainly knew what he was doing and caring about it, wanting it. His hands were in my back, in my face, touching me. I was almost pulling his hair, that dreamy curly hair. Our thoughts were the same. We heard nothing but our heartbeat in our ears. Blood running faster and so heated. Then we heard something else.

“The kettle is done”

\--

John stared the two of them. That wasn’t something he had wanted to see, ever thought that he would see. That woman was sitting at the kitchen counter, Sherlock had still his hands behind her, but she looked somewhat embarrassed with red blush coming to her cheeks. Well and Sherlock. He looked the same, but his hair was a mess. 

“Thanks”, Sherlock said then and took the kettle from the stove.

John looked away for a moment, at the door where he had just walked in without any idea what was going on at the flat. When he looked back at the kitchen that woman was back at the ground, trying to get her dress from climbing up. Sherlock made the tea and put three cups at the table.

 

“Hi, I’m John”, John introduced himself to that woman. She looked younger than in the photos. She couldn’t be any more than 25. 

She shook his hand firmly. “Nice to meet you. My name is Elisa”, she said still looking a bit ashamed. “I have heard quite many things about you”.

“Not really heard”, Sherlock said from the table. 

John sat there too, to the chair were he normally sit. “So you do what Sherlock does”, John asked.

“Not really”, she said. “I’m nothing like Sherlock”.

“Yes you are, don’t try to deny it. You just need more practise”, Sherlock said while holding his hot cup of tea on his lips.

That made John anxious and worried, maybe Mycroft had been right. John tried his best not to look absent.

“I’m not. I’m just not like you. I trust more to people’s emotions, I can’t tell like you where I catch all the clues”, she clearly mend her words to Sherlock.

John realised that they had been practising and she was getting better at it. The awkwardness of the situation had passed in everyone’s except John’s behalf, he felt so uncomfortable.

“It is really nice to meet you, John. I really mean it. I wasn’t really expecting to meet you today, but please don’t feel so uncomfortable. I admit that I’m a bit ashamed about what happened at the kitchen”, Elisa said to John.

How odd that sounded to John. And made he even more alarmed about what was happening.

“Oh, it looks like I said something wrong. I am sounding so odd now a day. Sherlock it’s all yours fault!” She said.

“I know”, Sherlock said and laughed.

She smiled to him and giggled a little and aid. “You are so arrogant”.

Then John realised she was really smitten to Sherlock, not in the way Molly had been. This was deeper, she was fascinated by Sherlock. John looked the way they interacted with each other without either realising it. John could see how they were alike in some ways. It was bit scary, it really was. 

 

“So what do you do”, John asked from Elisa.

“Don’t pretend you don’t already know that”, Sherlock said. “Mycroft has told you everything he knows”.

“I’m just trying to be polite”, John replied.

“It’s nice. If you know that I might as well tell you that I was promoted few days ago and the job is bit… Well not quite so boring anymore”, she said.

“I bet Mycroft had his fingers in that”, John said.

“I wouldn’t wonder, I asked for it”, Sherlock said.

“What? You didn’t tell me that? Thank you”, she said to Sherlock.

John was surprised how calm she was over someone playing with her live.

“I hated it earlier, now I don’t hate it as much as before”, she said to John. “Honestly I don’t know that much about you”, she continued, “or about Sherlock, he refuses to tell me a lot, only let’s be observe and deduce things about him”.

“I answered that one question you had”, Sherlock said then. 

Sherlock was behaving a bit odd for him. And the odd this time mend that Sherlock was acting a bit too much like a normal person, like someone who was trying to impress a girl. Maybe Sherlock really was. It wasn’t like John knew what Sherlock wanted half of the time.

The truth was that she seemed like a nice girl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, please leave a comment! :)


	5. About Relationships And Texting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John talk about past and some texting

“How come you had to work this weekend?” I asked from John. “Didn’t Sherlock tell you that he needed your assistant on a case?”

“I think he did well without my help”, John said.

“Do play nice”, Sherlock said, he had lifted his feet over the armchair’s arms and tried to place the cup on his nose. He was so silly and childish.

“You could have called to me earlier”, John said then. 

“You were upset, I couldn’t work with you like that”, Sherlock said.

“And how would you know if I were upset”, John asked.

“You are again”, Sherlock said. “She’s making me better on recognising feelings and emotions.”

John looked to me. “I haven’t done anything”; I said.

“But it’s your influence”, Sherlock said to me and smiled. “I need you around”.

He needed me around and in so many ways and wanted, I could feel it. John looked a bit awkward again. 

“Okay, maybe I need to leave you too now”, John said. He didn’t really like the connection we had. It was in his eyes. It was just worry. I wanted to tell him that I wasn’t stealing Sherlock away. I was playing in Sherlock’s terms. But he needed his best friend. There was something between two of them I couldn’t quite see. Something had happened a while back. Something that caused John of still being a little bit angry to Sherlock, but at the same time John couldn’t completely trust to Sherlock. It was Sherlock’s fault and it wasn’t. I couldn’t ask about it. It was something really personal.

“I think I better go, I have an early morning tomorrow unlike you two. And I need more sleep than you Sherlock.” I said.

“How do you know that Sherlock doesn’t sleep that much”, the question seemed to slip from John.

“I don’t know how, I just do”, I said. And I didn’t really know it before I said it. “Well at least your living room would look like this if he would sleep”. I pressed a kiss to Sherlock’s lips and took my jacket and left.

It was already late. I didn’t want to think about my work but I needed to be at least that much responsible and not all that taken away by my feelings. I could have sat there for hours or talked with Sherlock and John and watched their communication. That had been the first time that I saw John, his flatmate. I thought all that I knew about him when I sat to the bus. John had to be a doctor. He worked at the clinic mostly for money. He did liked being a doctor but he liked more adventures with Sherlock or at least had liked. Something had changed.

 

When I got home it was past midnight. I was sure that when I still was a student that had been early hours of going sleep but now I was tired. Sherlock made me tired, I had to use so much of my brain that it almost hurt. Still I liked it, I felt that I was developing to something, like I had a purpose of life. Maybe not quite that but my life had more meaning than it used to. I didn’t want to watch bad TV shows anymore or spend any dull nights out on a nightclub getting drunk. I had something else. Something more meaningful. 

Charlie was still awake when I got into flat. 

“You went out with him again”, she asked.

“Yes did, it was amazing. Nothing special, just an ordinary date but it was amazing”, I said. For Charlie I didn’t need to save my words in that way. 

“You are really falling for him, aren’t you”, she said.

“I don’t about that. I enjoy his company, his thoughts and the fact that he is so handsome doesn’t really help”, I said. 

Charlie looked in a way “good-god-girl-you’re-falling-so-hard”.

“There is no need for that look. Would it matter if I would fall for him”, I asked.

“Just take care, you heartbroken was not pretty thing to watch”, She said.

I could still remember that feeling, it didn’t ache anymore, but I could remember it. “I will”, I promised, “Good night”.

\--

On the next day John had just finished grocery shopping at Tesco when he noticed that car again. “God damn, Mycroft” John cursed and stepped into car after Anthea.

“It easier just to call by, tell that to Mycroft”, John said to Anthea. “I’m tired of this”.

John left the groceries at car and walked to the club. 

“John”, Mycroft started immediately. 

“Don’t bother to talk fast, it’s only my groceries melting”, John said. 

“Oh, good. Please sit down”, he said.

John was already sitting. he wanted to get it over with. “What do you want”, he asked.

“I thought that maybe you could tell what happened yesterday”, Mycroft said.

“When”, John asked. Did Mycroft now that Elisa had been in their flat? He most likely knew.

“You have met her”, he said.

“Yes, she was a sweet girl”, John said.

“My brother doesn’t care about sweet girls”, Mycroft said.

“Just about one”, John answered.

“Really? He does? That’s quite surprising”, Mycroft was genuinely astounded. Mycroft has having tea and offered it also to John, who just shook his head.

“Well, besides being sweet she was quite clever and your brother seemed to care a lot about that.” John said wanting to leave.

“So he’s only training her”, Mycroft said.

“I wouldn’t think so as the way I found them snogging at the kitchen”. While John said the word snogging he heard a weird noise, Mycroft was having difficulties drinking his tea.

“Snog—“

“Thongs in other’s throats kinda way, ready rip clothes of”, John explain to the shocked brother. 

Mycroft had to but his tea away. 

“Your theory and observation didn’t notice that they really have that connection”, John said. “I would say that Sherlock is just trying to impress her and doing it very well. Oh and by the way I think she was a bit happier with that promotion”, John said and left.

When John got back to flat was Sherlock lying at the couch in pyjamas and in that dressing gown.

“I think I shocked your brother almost to the point of a heart attack”, John said to Sherlock.

“Oh, good for you. With what?” Sherlock ask and lifted his head a bit to look at John.

“Telling how I found you two snogging”, John said.

Sherlock laughed. “That must have been a shock to you too”.

“Please keep everything beyond that at your bedroom”, John begged.

Sherlock laughed again. John had noticed how she made him laugh more easily. 

“Don’t you have a case or something”, John asked.

“Not right now”, Sherlock said and didn’t sound as miserable as he normally did without a case. She was somehow good for him, John thought.

“I was think about taking her to the cottage”, Sherlock said.

“There in cold in this time of year? Don’t you think you’re moving a bit fast?” John asked.

“John, I don’t know. I have no idea!” Sherlock said with a smile. 

He must be crazy or taken something, that was all John could think. The behaviour wasn’t in anyway typical to Sherlock. 

“Maybe it is too early. I don’t have experience in this kind of relationships”, Sherlock said. ”If this even is that”.

“Have you ever had a real girlfriend? Or a boyfriend for that matter?” John asked.

“Not really. I’ve dated someone for a while but it didn’t mean anything”, Sherlock said. “There have been only short things”.

“So it was a boyfriend”, John asked.

“I don’t…”

“You don’t remember? You have deleted that from your brain?” John was astonished but asked; “But you want to have a relationship with her?”

“Yes.”

“You better make it happen then, before she realises what kind of freak you are”, John said.

\--

On that day work wasn’t as boring as always, computers didn’t want to work and it just was all one big hassle everywhere. I ended up playing the computer geek, trying to get my bosses computer to work because the IT department was too busy while the whole firm seemed to be in mess. I did do my best, but I wasn’t really that good with computers. My knowledge went beyond basics but I wasn’t especially good at it really, just slightly better than anyone at that floor. I didn’t even really liked computers. They were just a tool to me.

I left for lunch with one of my new colleagues and we chatted and it was nice. She had also just started to work there. She had been transformed from another city’s office. She was quite new at London, hadn’t lived there only for a few months just like I. Well maybe I had lived there longer, from May and now even Halloween was coming. The truth was I had a funny feeling about her. She was acting something that she wasn’t. I couldn’t quite but my finger to it, but there was something. I tried to keep my work and that part of social life separated about that Sherlock had made me see. I don’t know if it was a good thing or not, but I wanted to have a little bit of normal life as well as that exciting life of discovering new things. When the computers got back to working the day went just fine, more boringly but fine. 

In the end of the day Sherlock texted to me at quite late.  
“ 4+9’(9/”  
)*=0+  
SH ”

The text was short. It made no sense. At first look it was like maths but it wasn’t. It was a code I could see that. It said something clearly, but I couldn’t figure it out that tired. I tried to replace the number with letters but it didn’t help at all.

“Sorry, couldn’t figure it out this late.  
Back to solving it tomorrow.  
Some of us need to sleep.  
EB”

“You’ll get it. So did I.  
Sleep is unnecessary.  
SH”

On the morning I gave it another go. A big of morning coffee wasn’t enough to make me see the answer. It didn’t even help when I tried to figure out if it was maths, but no, it made no sense. At work on lunch time stared to my work phone’s keyboard. It was different. It was one of those Nokia business phone’s from a few years back. It matched, at least in some parts. When I looked it more carefully I saw it. Too words. Then I texted to Sherlock.

“6=”  
/+/  
3=*  
-9=”?  
EB”

It really had made sense and had been so simple, I felt a little ashamed that I hadn’t figure it out any sooner. But maybe Sherlock had thought that my work phone was my own. I had given up using a Nokia phone since I bought a blackberry.

“I’ll tell at this evening.  
SH”

I smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As for clarification in these “mystery texts” the keyboard used is a qwerty keyboard from Nokia E5 And this is what they meant: 
> 
> 4+9’(9/ Finland  
> )*=0+ Suomi (This means Finland in Finnish language)
> 
> 6=” How  
> /+/ Did  
> 3=* You  
> -9=”? Know


	6. Computer Issues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Computers just doesn't always work and that's normal, right? Clearing your mind might help to think.

John looked at his best friend. Sherlock was putting his coat on, ready to leave somewhere.

“Still no case”, John asked. 

“Something as interesting”, Sherlock said. 

That was worrying. Sherlock without a case and called it still interesting. Something had to be going on. “What?” John asked.

“I heard about a little experiment”, Sherlock said. “Nothing dangerous, don’t worry”

“Does it involve her”, John asked.

“In some level”, Sherlock said. 

“She is not like you. She has a normal life. Don’t spoil it to her”, John said. 

It was the truth, after meeting Sherlock John’s life had never felt the same. Everything was tasteless or a little bit dull if it didn’t include chasing after a criminal or dealing with something possibly dangerous. Sherlock had changed John’s life in a way that it never felt the same. Everything had to be a new adventure an ordinary day at the clinic just wasn’t enough anymore. He didn’t enjoy that work like he did before, not the people even though he still felt the need to help, but he could do that with Sherlock in different way. Helping and defending those in need had made him go to the army at the beginning. 

The time when Sherlock had been dead, it still was the most dreadful part of John’s life. He couldn’t imagine living without that feeling of chase in the Streets of London. Sherlock’s death was still the one thing between two of them and he could feel Sherlock slipping from his touch. There wouldn’t be no more chasing in the streets, he had another partner soon.

 

“John, are you coming”, Sherlock asked then.

And John felt happy for a moment.

They went to see Mycroft. John was surprised. It was that Sherlock wanted to hear some report about computer fault in insurance firm. That must be the firm she worked for.

“Seems that she doesn’t know that much about computers”, Mycroft said. 

“I didn’t really think she cared about those”, Sherlock said. “I’m still not happy that you did that. Don’t mess with her life”.

“It wasn’t her life”, Mycroft said.

“Her work, that’s the same. I’m not training her to became like me”, Sherlock said. “You can’t understand it”.

John looked at the two brothers. Sherlock looked like he was serious. He didn’t want to work with her. He wanted to be with her. Sherlock looked like his was in pain for a moment, he looked frustrated. 

Mycroft stared at his brother. “You are having emotion little brother”.

“I think I am”, Sherlock said then in rather quiet voice. 

In some level John had expect him to deny it. To John it was new this acceptance of feelings. Last times Sherlock had done anything emotions related was when they were investigating the hound and then Sherlock’s voice just before the fall. That’s where he had been emotional. Sherlock cared about his friends, but now this was something more. It was like Sherlock never had emotions not like anything like this toward to anyone.

“Very well then”, Mycroft said. “I’ll call it of”.

Sherlock’s phone made a sound. It wasn’t no longer the same sound that it did when the woman had changed the message sound. Sherlock picket the phone from his pocket and looked at it and smiled and replied an answer. 

“You are distracting her work”, Sherlock said and left.

Mycroft gave John a look “what-the-hell-is-going-on”.

John shook his shoulders, it wasn’t something he knew. Almost everything was right now.

Then there was another text sound. “Lestrade needs us, come on”, Sherlock said and they got in to a cap.

 

The crime scene was in the outskirts of town. Old buildings and factors. John had been near here once. It had been that time when Sherlock had found out that at the first time the woman wasn’t dead.

“It’s not related to that”, Sherlock said when they stepped out of the cap.

“To what”, John asked.

Sherlock didn’t reply, he just kept walking toward the scene. John hurried after.

“It’s a double murder. A woman and a child”, Lestrade said.

John could see the two bodies in the ground few meters away.

“Don’t cover them yet!” Sherlock disturbed the police by shouting and hurried nearer the bodies.

“Wait, let him have a look”, Lestrade yelled also to the police and lifted the police tape to help John under it.

Two of them walked nearer the scene, John prepared himself for the scene. He wasn’t afraid of it. He had seen a lot of blood in battle field and in operating room. It was always the child’s death that hounded him.

 

Sherlock already stood there. Holding his phone, he took a photo of some detail of the woman’s grey good quality jacket. Then John noticed that there was a button missing. The jacket was hardly worn but the button wasn’t there. John examined the body. It was clearly blunt force trauma for the head that killed her. She looked well-dressed but hair was a mess. There was blood in the ground. 

Then Sherlock started walking to the next body and John follow. Sherlock squatted besides the body and tried to take a photo but his hands were shaking.

“Sherlock--”

Sherlock stood up again and walked backwards. John didn’t look at the body but Sherlock. He was pale staring at the body. 

“She was alive”, Sherlock whispered. His lips trembled. 

He had started to feel emotions. John didn’t know what to do. 

“What do you mean”, Lestrade asked, not realising that something was wrong with Sherlock and it didn’t have anything to do with the girl’s death.

“She used to be alive”, Sherlock said with terror in his voice.

“Are you quite alright, mate”, Lestrade asked now looking at Sherlock with a weird expression in his face, the he looked at John. “Should you go?”

“Sherlock?” John asked and touched his friend’s shoulder. That seemed to waken Sherlock.

“What? Oh yes, right. The body”, then he just walked simply back to the body. 

“Has he taken something”, Lestrade asked from John.

“No”, Sherlock answered by the body, back in the case.

 

“He is in love”, John said.

The look in Lestrade’s face was surprised. “You’re not joking, aren’t you”, he asked.

John rolled his head. 

“To you”, he asked then.

“No! For the last time I’m not gay!” John had no patience with that repeated question. “It’s a woman”.

“Wow. I thought he wasn’t... Well, turned towards that direction”, Lestrade had also had the same impression of their friend without emotions, without any interest to sex or the opposite sex. 

“It’s rather new thing”, John said.

“Come and look at the body and stop gossiping like little girls”, Sherlock shouted to John and Lestrade.

After that little moment Sherlock seemed to be himself. Like it never happened, but it had been noticed.

 

And then suddenly Sherlock was gone and John alone at the crime scene with the police.

“He’s gone?” Lestrade asked.

“Just like always”, John said and started to look for the nearest bus stop or cap. Sherlock never bothered to wait for him never thought that it might be a polite thing to do.

“Is it really like you said”, Lestrade asked.

“Maybe love is a bit strong word, but you saw him. She affects to him. They are alike in so many ways, but still different.” John said.

“I thought that one Sherlock was enough”, Lestrade sighed.

“She isn’t that bad really. She is a sweet girl”. John said.

“You’ve met her?” Lestrade was curious.

“Yes, not a situation I want to walk into again”, John said.

“What—“

“You don’t want to know. Believe, me they have real chemistry between them. Sherlock didn’t even notice that I walk in to the flat”, John said.

“What—Were they--?” Lestrade looked like he had seen a really disturbing image.

“No, they were just so bewildered about each other’s”, John.

“We do gossip like girls but how is that possible that Sherlock has found someone?” The idea of Sherlock being with someone seemed quite weird to Lestrade as well as to John. 

“Apparently they met at Tesco and didn’t share a word”, John said.

“What was Sherlock doing at Tesco”, Lestrade wondered.

“Buying milk for once”, John said.

“This only gets more disturbing”, Lestrade said and tried to laugh but then realised that he was at crime scene and it was respectful. 

“Tell me about it”, John said. “I’ll text you if Sherlock gets to somewhere with this case”, John said and left. It was for the first time he couldn’t trust to Sherlock to figure out what had happened and catch whoever did it. John felt somehow disappointed. 

\--

For some reason after the lunch computers were back to working order and everything started to normalise. I could begin to work with the papers as usually and never again was I asked to help with computers. The IT was there as soon as possible. I didn’t broke anything but I had a feeling that I had been tested for something that I couldn’t quite pass. But it didn’t really matter as now I knew the things which I was good at. 

When I got back home I barely had time to change of my work clothes to something more my style when I got a text.

“You haven’t eaten yet. Dinner?  
SH”

We met in a nice chinese restaurant and he watched while ate. He only had a class of water in front of him.

“You are on a case, aren’t you?” I asked but knew the answer.

“There was a double murder at industrial district. Woman and a child“, Sherlock said.

“That’s sad”, I said.

“I knew you would felt that way”, Sherlock said. “Can I talk to you about it or is it too much?”

“You can”, I said warily, “but don’t you normally share these things with John?”

“He isn’t here”, Sherlock said. “You effected to me there, at the crime scene. For the first time I could see that they were people”.

I could see what he meant. He had this sadness in him that he didn’t have before. I was the cause of it. 

“Did or does it affect to your work”, I asked. I could see that at least for a moment it had.

“Not really, it was just something I wasn’t used to feeling. Now it doesn’t bother me anymore”, Sherlock said.

That was a little worrying to me, his emotionlessness. But I could see that it was crucial to his work, he could deduce thins as clearly as he like if there were emotions involved.

“She wasn’t the child’s mother. The woman was killed first only after that the killer murdered the child. I don’t think he first had the idea of killing both of them but things just escaladed”, Sherlock spoke. “I just can’t see it all.” He was frustrated.

“Drink that class”, I said. “Clear your mind for a moment, stop holding so tightly about the clues you have. Clear your mind and take a fresh look at it all”.

Sherlock looked for a second like I had suggested something really stupid. Then he picked up the class and drank it all in one sip. Then he stared my eyes intensely, I made sure he could feel the connection between us. Then he blinked. I knew he had got it, the thing that had been missing. 

“Just go”, I said and he left on that instant. I watched his back turning to me when he got into a cap and drove off.

 

I sat there alone and finished my dinner. I had helped him. I wasn’t sad about him leaving, he needed to. I was sad that he was so torn by the new feelings he had. He was so human, as human as anyone. And my connection with him was only making it stronger. His human side, the one more emotional, the only one with emotions really. He tried to be strong like he was all stone, but now he was like chattered class, almost broken. It wasn’t all my fault, that thing that had happen and effected to his and John’s relationship was the main reason. He had more feelings now than he had ever had before. 

I left the restaurant, walking to the bus stop, while thinking. What we had was something. It wasn’t something that ordinary people had. It was different. We were both changed by it. I started to go over a crossing when a car stopped in front of me. The back door was opened and I heard a voice. 

“Come in”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, please something behind, like a little tiny comment that would make my day so much better. I currantly working on / writing the 13. chapter. I excited of showing the 7th chapter, some action coming, I promise!


	7. The Russian Mafia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A case isn't as simple as Sherlock wants. And he doesn't know enough.

The voice was demanding but there was no way I was going inside of a strange car. 

“Come in!” The voice said again.

I turned over and took few quick steps and almost got to running when I felt someone grabbing my arms and pulling me towards the car. It wasn’t just one person, but two men dressed in dark clothes. I tried to yell, but couldn’t. The other man hold his hand on my mouth. Leather cloves cover his skin. I tried to get loose, to run, to pull myself free, but I wasn’t strong enough. They got me in the car boot. I lost my bag to them. 

I was trapped. Dark, small place. I felt the dust in my nose. I tried to scream, but nobody could hear me. I heard music coming up, a bass from the car’s audio system. It was loud, that covered all my attempts to make noise, to open the car boot. I tried to kick the boot open or to find some way to open it from inside, but it was so dark I didn’t have enough space to move. I could only wait and prepare myself for what was coming, the unknown.

Then I started to feel it. The fear. It ate my confidence, the powers I had. I felt so weak compared to them, whoever they were. I was scared. There was no lift. I could only hear the music. It was a local radio station. Music and the radio host spoke in between. I didn’t care about it .I wanted out.

I had shivers. I felt cold. The fear made me tremble.

\--

John met Sherlock at their flat. He came there half an hour later than John. John ad tried to work on his computer to figure out those parts he could. It wasn’t a much without any indigation from Sherlock what he needed. The case was a mystery. The woman’s purse wasn’t with her or neither any indication to tell who she was. While observing, John had noticed that a necklace had been ribbed from her neck, probably just after her death. John couldn’t tell a lot about the child. She had been shot, one bulled to a running child. The child was also dressed fell, she had a dress that hadn’t been worn that lot and a bow in her hair.

But there was one thing. Neither of them looked like they were British heritage. It could have been Eastern European, but John couldn’t know for sure. Then Sherlock came back.

“Anything new”, John asked.

“You’re right about the Eastern European connection”, Sherlock said.

“How could you—never mind. Do you think it might be connected to that Russian mafia case you had earlier”, John asked then.

“I don’t think so. Her face looked more like she was from southern, not from Russia and that case was just about the photos, nothing more”, Sherlock said.

“What about the child?” John asked.

“She wasn’t the mother. Didn’t you check their eye colours?” Sherlock said.

John was aware about the eye colour heritage, but admitted to himself that he didn’t have looked that closely. 

“John, you always assume! Of course she isn’t her mother, not her biological mother at least”, Sherlock was talking fast, excited about the case. There was no sign of the earlier hesitation he had had. 

Sherlock took his computer and worked from that. “I need a clue”, he kept saying.

“Maybe you should go and see the crime scene photos at the yard, you didn’t really spent time at the scene”, John said.

Sherlock gave him a look that said “I don’t need to look at again.”

John made tea while he tried to work. Sherlock was mumbling aloud about to case in hurried tone but didn’t really mean his words for John. John could only understand a word from here and there. 

“Woman, Russian, mud, stockings, no wallet. Two hours maybe. Connected. House in south. No, south-east. Rocks. Renovation”

Sherlock speech just simply made no sense to John but he stuck around. 

John remembered the case in Belarus, maybe it had something to do with the Russians after all.

Then Sherlock took his phone and sent a text, someone replied and Sherlock was gone.

\--

On that evening, the next time Sherlock texted to John was just after hour when we left.

“Meet you at Bart’s  
SH”

John had hesitated of going to Bart’s after the fall. He didn’t want to see Molly. Molly had known. Molly had helped. He appreciated that but he wasn’t still all right about her telling a lie. That lie. That Sherlock really was dead. He couldn’t forgive it so easily. Now John didn’t know how to act around Molly.

The Bart’s was still the same. Molly the same, Sherlock acted around her the same. Or so John thought. Sherlock examined some details of the bodies again and asked for John’s opinion which just only confirmed his discoveries. Then Sherlock was gone. John was just about to leave also when Molly spoke to him.

“John wait! I want to talk to you”, She said.

John was waiting there right by the door.

“I know things haven’t been the same between two of us since—that, but I want to ask you something. Is Sherlock alright?” Molly asked as she was her sweet self.

“He’s alright”, John said.

“Are you sure, because he just seems so… I don’t know… Like something has changed”, Molly said.

John didn’t know how to tell it. How to tell Molly that Sherlock was seeing someone. It was and had been obvious that Molly had had a crush over Sherlock. 

“He is just… well seeing someone”, John said.

“Oh, you two are public then”, Molly with a little giggly voice.

“God, no! Why people keep imagine that!” John was frustrated. “It’s this girl, a rather new thing it is. They are just so drawn to each other’s. Dating I think”, John said.

“Don’t worry, I’m finally over him in that way”, Molly said, “Keeping that secret for him only helped in that.”

“So you can see something is different in him”, John asked.

“There was something in the way he spoke about the bodies. He seemed gentler or more attached”, Molly said.

“She has changed him”, John said. John was also afraid of that. What was this changed Sherlock going to became?

That little conversation they had about Sherlock, was really the first one they had after Sherlock came back to live. 

 

The case didn’t go as well as John wanted, if it would it would already have been solved and he would have been sleeping instead of that he was at an internet coffee shop, stalking some who went there a lot. It was just that Sherlock thought that John looked more like the one hanging there at the computer. But John wasn’t offended by that it wasn’t like Sherlock really mend anything special with it. John just sat there, looking at his Facebook page and deleting spam from his e-mail, not really doing anything sensible. He googled things though, case related and otherwise. It wasn’t like he could do anything with his computer at home. Sherlock always knew what he had done. Deleting browser page history didn’t help at all, Sherlock knew anyway. 

John typed her name to Google. It took a moment for John to spell her surname right, then it showed some results. There were at least few people with the same name. It didn’t take John a long to figure out which one’s information was about her. She had a Facebook account, in some parts public but quite dull. There were only a photo and her e-mail, some birthday wishes from a year back. From there John could really see her age. She did look couple years younger than she was. She had little over hundred friends, either she wasn’t very liked or she was just careful about who she let be her friends. John thought that it had to be the latter. 

John looked at the other links. There was her name in some long list for 5 years back in different newspaper sites. That was maybe a bit odd, but there wasn’t a lot John found. Her address from Finland was partly visibly. John looked at the place from a map. It was in north, nowhere really. In tiny town with residents only a much as they had around Baker street. And that was pretty much all he could find. She seemed like a sweet girl also in the internet, a normal person. Ordinary.

There was absolutely nothing happening at the cafe, John added some coins to his computer and at the same time someone walked in to cafe. It was a young man, under eighteen probably but he looked a bit East European. John deleted his computer’s browser history and texted. John was reading a news website when Sherlock texted.

“Meet me at street.  
SH”

So John left. Sherlock was waiting for him just around the corner. 

“That must be the girl’s brother or a cousin. I can be sure from this distance”, Sherlock said.

“Does he know that she is dead”, John asked. 

“No it’s their uncle somehow linked to this. It’s all a one big mess. Once I wish I could speak Russian. I have to learn it someday”, Sherlock said last to himself.

“You admit there are faults in you? That you are not perfect?” John asked.

“No one is.”

That was all John knew Sherlock was ever going to say about it.

“Could you explain the case for me? I not quite clear on things”, John said then.

“It’s the uncle who is been threatened and that family all together. They don’t know about the girl’s death yet. They probably think that she is kept hostage.”

“Who is threatening them? Why don’t they go to the police”, John asked.

“John, listen to yourself. The Russian mafia going to ask help from the police. Don’t act that stupid.” Sherlock said.

John felt so stupid for a moment. He was tired, it was clearly past midnight.

“What is he always doing there”, John asked.

“That’s the only place where he can be himself. His family won’t ever accept it. “Sherlock said.

“It?”

“He being gay”, Sherlock said.

“How do you know that, he doesn’t look like that”, John said.

“And what do you think gay men look like? I made a proposition to him”, Sherlock said.

“You what?” John asked.

“We chatted a while. He thought that I was gay and I encouraged that image and then turned him down”, Sherlock said.

“You must be mental”, John just said. “He is a minor”.

“Actually he’s not. I nicked his ID for a moment. Now I also know their family address.” Sherlock said.

Nothing special was turning up so they returned to their flat. John went bed fully clothed if Sherlock would need him with the case it wasn’t like he had anything better to do.

 

John slept until morning. Sherlock was there in the living room stepping back from the door to the window. “No news about the case”, John asked.

“Not since last night. It’s clear that there is a competition between the Russian mafia and someone else. But I can’t find out who the others are. There is nothing to work with. No news about a new gang, nothing not even a assault to be linked to the other mafia, if it even is that.” Sherlock was anxious looking. 

John made tea and toast to himself and gave a cup also to Sherlock. He knew that Sherlock wouldn’t eat a thing until this case was solved. Lestrade called to Sherlock. There were a few words. 

“The family now knows about the girl’s death. In few hours there could be a war at the streets.” Sherlock said.

The only troubling thing was that John knew that a war at the streets would made Sherlock happy and John even more worried than he was now. For this point the case hadn’t have anything dangerous to them but now it could turn to violence at everywhere. John didn’t want that. John knew that Sherlock already thought that the streets of London were his battlefield this was only going to make it worse. 

John took a shower, went to water Mrs. Hudson’s flowers as they had agreed when she was at her holiday visiting her niece at north. London would fall, Sherlock had once said about he leaving John hoped it hadn’t mean this. 

Sherlock was still at upstairs, his long fingers in his hair. Thinking. John could see a patch hidden under his sleeve.

“You promised to stop using those”, John said. 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. It didn’t mean anything to him, the promise. Was Sherlock capable to hold any promises?

John went to clinic to escape from the flat. Within few hours Sherlock would start to act really annoyingly if there wouldn’t happen something and John didn’t want to be in there to watch that to happen. 

\--

I couldn’t think anything except the fear. I was scared what would to happen. Why was I taken? Why me? It was the fear. I only knew one man who wouldn’t have been scared. That helped, thinking of his face. His curly hair, his clever eyes. I tried to think like he had. There had to be a reason for my abduction. 

What did I knew about them? It wasn’t a lot. Two strong men, the voice in the car and a driver. Five men. Two of them I had seen. They had looked quite the same in a way. Big gorillas, spend time at the gym. They were rough, used to things like this. They had had strong jaws, narrow mouths and a accent, that man in the car had an accent. I had a bad feeling. A bad feeling that they were from the Russian mafia. My one sentence knowledge of Russian wasn’t going to help. 

I thought about the park where Sherlock had told me about the Russian mafia and the blackmailing case. Could it be linked to that? Sherlock had told me that the case was solved, but what did that mean? Had he told the police? And that building, the mafia headquarters, we had been close. Was it too close? I couldn’t see the connection. 

Sherlock’s face became a blur. I couldn’t see it and the panic took over. I wanted out. Out. That was all I could think. I wanted to scream but it made no sense. I tried some screaming but only I could hear my voice. I tried to see his face again. The curls, his eyes but I couldn’t quite see his eye colours or touch his hair. He was in distance but close enough for it to feel a little helpful. I could see beyond panic. I tried to reason it all. I could get out from there. I tried to feel if there was anything at the boot besides me. I tried to think a bit clearly. If I couldn’t get out I needed a plan. A plan what to do when the car would stop and what would I do then. The car had to stop at some point. I had to do something then. I needed to see it in advance. What would happen then? There had to be a greater reason for my abduction and something they wanted from me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be coming with action. I'm not sure should I rase the rating back to mature for now on. :/   
> Thanks for reading, please leave a comment and make my day better!


	8. The Russians

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where and why is she taken? Sherlock is struggling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Discription of violance.

Before I could see it, the answer to a one little and at the same time huge question, why, the car stopped. I realised how stupid I had been. I should have tried to be ready and I should have observed the road, all the turns and pumps and how the road felt like. I hadn’t. Sherlock would never be proud of me in that, I wasn’t proud. 

The boot was opened and a bright light hurt my eyes. I was pulled away from the boot and made to walk, while one man was holding my hands behind of me. I blinked my eyes to get used to the light. It wasn’t really that much light, just after the dark it had just seemed so much brighter. It was an industrial building, some sort of factory were we walked to. There was a lot of dust. Grey dust covered all the surfaces. There were old sewing machines. Now it was empty, but at some point it had been a working factory and it wasn’t that long ago otherwise there wouldn’t have been those machines. The men made me sit in a chair and tied my hands with cable tie. Now I could really observe them. No of them said anything. They waited. 

I felt like crying of fear. I was shaking and breathing in a normal way was difficult. I felt so powerless. A man walked in the factory room. I recognised the voice. It was the same as in the car.

“You should have just stepped in the car”, the voice said.

“I never step in to stranger’s car”, I couldn’t understand how bravely and in a witty way I had said it. 

“I see you never choose the easy way.”

The man was old, maybe in his sixties. Thin grey hair, a bit fat, wearing a suit trousers and a white shirt with a cardigan.

I had never seen him before. 

“People are expecting me to be back”, I said.

“No they aren’t, don’t lie. Your roommate thinks you’re going to spend the night with your boyfriend and he is too busy solving crimes to notice that you’re gone.”

Sherlock wouldn’t probably notice, not at first. But how did they know that?

“What do you want from me?” I asked, tried to keep calm.

“You’ve been a really good girl so far. Keep it that way and you might survive unharmed”, the man said.

One of the gorillas was holding his hand in my shoulder, pushing me down the chair. He chuckled a bit. 

“Now, now, Vlad, don’t scare our guest”, the man said.

“I’m not scared” I tried to say.

“Not scared are you, acting all brave. There is no need for that. You must be terrified”, the man said still in his calm tone. The accent was pushing thru.

“You are Russians, aren’t you”, I asked.

The man laughed. “You must be picking up his deducing skills”.

“I would recognise that accent in anywhere. The Russians are the worst customers”, and as soon as I had said it Vlad slapped me in the face. It was a strong slap I almost did fall of the chair. It brought tears to my eyes. My cheeked hurt. No one had ever slapped me in the face. Never hit me. I was shocked by the impact. The hand was again at my shoulder pressing me down.

“Don’t be so sassy” the Russian said.

“What do you want?” I asked again.

“You aren’t here to ask question.” The Russian just said. “See you in the morning.” And that was the last thing I heard and saw. I smelled the chemical in my noise and fall into darkness.

 

I woke up with a headache. I felt sick. 

There was a cold concrete under my hands, the floor was so cold. I was shaking.

I tried to push myself up, to get to my feet, but I didn’t have that much powers. I felt all weak. I couldn’t concentrate, world was spinning. The room was dark except the little amount of light coming from the roof windows. There was no one else. I was alone. I couldn’t get my feet working. The chair had fallen too. Only then I completely realised that it was the morning and last night was real. This was happening.

I tried to pull myself towards the door, crawl on the floor. It was slowly and painful, I got marks to my hands, I managed to make few meters and felt so tired. I had to stop for a moment. I was by a machine table and against of that I tried to pull myself up. I was able to get to my knees when the lights came back. I could hear someone coming. I tried to see where to go, where to be save. I didn’t have time.

They came back. 

One of the gorillas, Vald I assumed gripped me from my jacket collard and my arms and dragged me back to chair. 

“So we are trying to escape, are we?” The Russian said from the door.

Vlad hit me again. My lips hit to teeth and I could taste the blood. 

“You should have been quicker”, the Russian said then and laughed.

I felt like something was pressing my head, like a tight collar around my brain.

“Having a headache? It’ll go away, but not soon.” he said.

“What did you gave to me?” I asked in pain, the tight pressing feeling in my head was horrible.

“Don’t you remember last night? You are not here to ask questions”.

And the third slap for another cheek. At least they were not really hitting me.

“Where is your boyfriend in his investigations”, The Russian asked.

“He’s not my boyfriend”, I said. He wasn’t, not really, but I knew that he mend Sherlock.

“Answer the question”, said the man with harsh tone. 

“He doesn’t talk to me about his cases”.

“Don’t lie” The Russian said and Vlad hit me again, this time to my stomach. I fell towards to my knees. It was hard to breath, it hurt so much. I never felt this pain in my life, I never had been in major accident, I never had broken a bone. This was real. This was real pain.

When I was able to breathe somewhat normally again he talked, ”What did I say about telling lies. You were with him at the park.”

“He said it was solved.”

“What do you know about that other case?” He asked.

“Not much. It was a double murder. The woman wasn’t the child’s mother and that the woman was killed first. He just mentioned it. I don’t know anything else”, I was scared. And it showed in my voice.

“Scared are we now?” He laughed again. “You are useless. Well, we will figure out something for you”.

It wasn’t something I wanted to know about.

“You’re not British, aren’t you?” He said.

“You don’t seem to know anything about me then.” And instantly I regretted my words as I felt the punch again and in that pain I heard the voice.

“What did I say about being so sassy?”

Vlad locked me into a toilet for a minute still my hands tied it was a bit difficult, at least they weren’t too cruel. Then I was back there sitting. 

The Russian had brought himself a chair too. “Now, be a nice girl and I will give you something to eat.”

I saw the chocolate par in his hand. I had got something to drink from the sink tap at the toilets. I wasn’t thirsty anymore, I was only hungry and I could handle that for a while. I had no reason to be helpful for him. I didn’t say anything.

“I’ve been informed to take as good care of you as it is necessary”, the Russian said. I didn’t understand what that mend. At least they were not going to kill me.

“So let’s begin again. Tell me about your boyfriend’s nice little hobby”, the Russian began.

“Do you mean his violin playing?”

“Don’t. Be. Sassy”, Vlad pulled my hair back. I felt my neck pending as far as it could. The pain showed in my face. “Try to learn”. 

His accent was even clearer. All I could think was things I shouldn’t say, things that would only hurt me. Was I self destructive? 

“I haven’t known him that long.” I managed to say. “He’s a consulting detective”.

“Consulting detective”, the Russian laughed in cold tone.

“One of a kind”, I said.

“Clearly. Out of business soon”, he said.

Were they going to kill Sherlock? Why? I felt stupid. Scared and stupid and it hurt. It hurt so much. My face felt so swollen, my stomach hurt. I was certain I had at least bruises. It had felt so bad drinking that water, when it touched my lips. 

 

“Are you really acting that stupid? Like you don’t know a thing about his work”, the Russian asked.

“I’m telling the truth. I don’t know more. We have only had couple of dates”, I said.

“He cares about you. That’s what our sources tell”, he said.

“I don’t know”, I said quietly. 

“A couple of dates with a man, who haven’t been with anyone in a century”, the Russian laughed again with that horrible tone.

“I haven’t known him that long, have I”, I said.

The Russian made a movement with his head to Vlad who punched me this time and then pushed me off the chair into ground and dragged me to the toilets and tied my wrists to a pipe. He did care if hurt. I didn’t whine that much but I couldn’t help few tears. I tried to be strong but it was difficult.

Then he started kicking. First one took me by surprise. I tried to crawl further away but I couldn’t. I tried to protect myself, but it was difficult. All I could do was cry, cry for help. “Stop, please stop. Lopeta!” That last word slipped from my tongue. I tried to be as tiny as I could, lay in the ground my knees as close to jaw as I could. Few time he kicked to my back. That was worse. “Plese, stop. Ole kiltti.”

“She is speaking some other language”, Vlad yelled to the other room.

I cried there in the ground. It hurt so badly. It hurt everywhere.

“What’s that language”, The Russian was back there asking. I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to be in there. I didn’t want to answer to his questions. I felt the blood in my face, the pain in my back. I hoped nothing had broken. That it was all superficial. 

Vlad forced my fingers to open from a fist. And then started pulling my middle finger. Twitching it to wrong way. I screamed. “Stop, please, stop”. It hurt. It hurt. It was my left hand and it hurt. I was shaking. 

The Russian spoke again, “At least now you’re polite. So be a good girl and answer the question. Where are you from?”

I felt the easiest way would be to answer, but I could find the words soon enough. Then the pain came again. Vlad didn’t let go of my right wrist. He bounced it against the wall. I screamed. The words where one mumble. I cried in pain. It was the worst. He repeated it three times and then again and again with even more power. I heard a crack. I felt a crack. First it was the sound. Then I saw it as he let go of my hand. It didn’t look normal. I stared it in silence. 

 

It was broken. It had to be broken. My right wrist. My fingers didn’t really move right. 

Then it hit. The pain. 

I cried in pain. Couldn’t breathe normally. I had never felt anything like that. I stared my wrist and the weird angle. I was shaking and in distance I heard the voice. 

“You weren’t supposed to break it!”

“Sorry boss”

I tried to hold that wrist in a better angle with my other hand but it didn’t help, it just hurt more.

“If you don’t want us to hurt you more, tell me, where are you from”, it was the Russian’s voice. I couldn’t take my eyes of my wrist. Or the little I could see from my tears of pain and agony.

“Finland”, it was so hard to say that little word, my voice was trebling.

“Good girl”, the Russian said. “So we are neighbours. Vlad’s going to tie your wrist now, it will be better then.”

 

But before that he tied me legs together with cable tie so that I couldn’t move. I just sat there on the floor while he gave me a piece of gauze to tie it myself. It hurt so badly, but at least my hands where free for a moment. Then he tied only my left wrist to that pipe and left me there. They all left, and then someone came back. It was the other strong jawed Russian. He took a picture of me on the floor with his phone. I tried to turn my head away. All blood and tears, hurting. And then he left.

There were no longer lights at the factory, I was there alone. They had left me there. Only little light I could see was coming from the toilets door that they had left open. And that light wasn’t much. It was the same light filtered through dirty roof windows. 

I was alone. I was in pain. I was hungry. My head still burned, but nothing was compared to my wrist that I tried to hold steady in my lap. I leaned against the wall next to sink. My left arm wasn’t exactly in a comfortable position but that didn’t really bother me. 

I wished so much for pain killers, for a plaster in my wrist. I knew it was broken. I wish someone would come and help me. I knew they wouldn’t. No one knew where I was. 

I tried to think about him. Sherlock. His curls were so vague in distance. His voice was barely audible. I couldn’t see his eyes at all. Picturing him didn’t help. His brain would have. But he was in danger. Of course so was I but there was nothing I could do to neither of those things.

\--

A couple hours of work where John felt that he was needed and he could help, made him feel a bit better. Of course Sarah appreciated it. Otherwise she worked alone, not that she minded but it was the flu season and afternoons were always busy. John was ready to go right away when he got a text from Sherlock.

“Come at once  
SH”

And John was there in fifteen minutes. First it looked like nothing had happened. There was no reason for Sherlock to text him there. Sherlock sat in his chair, elbows in knees, palms in face and fingers in his temple. 

“You needed me”, John said to Sherlock who lifted his head. His express was in no way normal. He was furious, scared and he looked like he had cried a bit. John was worried. His Sherlock never had emotion like that. Never, not even at that time when Anderson had spoilt the whole crime scene and the case couldn’t be solved or the murderer convicted because of that. 

“Are you quite alright”, John asked.

“Someone has taken her”, Sherlock said.

The pain in his voice was the worst thing John had heard.

It took a minute for John to be able to say something. “What to do mean?”

Sherlock gave him his phone. There was a photo. A horrible picture taken in a toilet, couple of sinks, green tiles and a woman tied to a pipe with cable ties from her wrist. She was holding other one in her lap. That one had gauze around it. There was blood in her shirt, water. She had turned her head away all she could, but still it was possible to see her swollen face and lips in blood. It was definitely her. Even John recognised her. It was that woman Sherlock cared about, who made Sherlock care about.

 

John could feel part of Sherlock’s pain. The slow terror was taking place.

“How could I not see that she was gone?” Sherlock spoke to himself. 

“Maybe you should contact to Mycroft”, John suggested.

“They have hurt her so. I didn’t want her to be part of that. This.”

It wasn’t his Sherlock speaking.”What can I do”, John asked.

“I don’t know”, Sherlock’s voice said.

That was the first time.

“Mycroft?”, John said again.

“He can’t help”, Sherlock said.

“Are you sure”, John asked. “Do they want something?”

“That I stop solving this case. That I meet them”, Sherlock said.

“Are you crazy? You can’t go and meet them!” John almost shouted.

“They have got her!” Sherlock’s voice wasn’t sounding normal at all.

“You must be close if they want you to stop”, John said then trying to lure Sherlock back to thinking about the case and not her. Not that woman who had mingled his friend’s thoughts, life and everything he was.

“I don’t know. It’s all such a mess. A pile of things. Nothing I can do.” Sherlock said and stood up. “Those were the clothes she wore last night but that picture has been taken this morning around 10am. That horrible flash made me first think that it was from last night but in the floor you can see the sun. The building is faced towards the rising sun. That doesn’t really narrow the area, because it’s not direct sunlight. It must be from a roof window. “

“Good, think”, John said. “Deduce. You’ll figure this out”.

“I’m scared John. What if I won’t?” The alarm in Sherlock’s voice was so very real. To John it was the most agonising part. 

“You will, you always will”, he said.

“You know that I don’t. And not fast enough”, Sherlock said.

“For the last time I’m asking, speak to Mycroft. Or the police”, John said.

“What would he do”, Sherlock doubted.

John was worried, his best friend wasn’t thinking at all. “He could find out how did she end up there. He has his ways.”

“He’s not the God”

“Neither are you.”

“Never thought I was.”

John wasn’t so sure about that. At least Sherlock had thought himself as the next best thing.

“What would she tell you to do?” John asked then. That wasn’t a question that he wanted to ask but thought that it might help.

“She... I don’t know. “

John saw Sherlock was in different place in his head. Then he had the answer.

“She would tell me to drink a class of water. To clear my mind. Not to hold everything so tightly. Have a fresh look”

John felt stupid. It was so simple advice. “Do that then”, John told to him and even brought a class of water. Sherlock sat down again, drank the class and clearly relaxed his face. It was helping at least in some level. For a minute Sherlock had his eyes closed. The first thing he said was,”Pass me my phone”. 

Then he texted to Mycroft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You migh have noticed that I like writing of conversations so more coming up in every chapter...   
> Thanks for reading!


	9. The Factory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last moments at the factory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And again a new chapter. For some weird reason I really like this one or at least parts of it.

The factory name is imaginative and the name means nothing. Never been in a fire and never recommend climbing up then.   
Mycroft came there, looked all as smart as usual in expensive suit with that bloody umbrella. It wasn’t raining! He spoke on the phone, texted. Sherlock was in nerves. Mycroft looked worried but not about the girl but for his brother. John knew as well as Mycroft that for Sherlock it had meant a lot to ask help from his brother so it had to be something really meaningful. John knew that Mycroft would pull every string he had for his little brother, even more now, after the fall. After what Mycroft had told to... Well he was going to help.

Sherlock couldn’t keep still, “I have to go soon”. 

John didn’t want him to go, not to risk his life for a girl. Sherlock risked his live for a stranger almost daily basis, but this was different. Only Sherlock knew where he was going. No one could follow, they shouldn’t or she would be dead. Sherlock had only shared the disturbing picture with them, not the instructions. Sherlock waited for the last minute he had to go for Mycroft to find out anything. But he didn’t have anything, not so soon. So Sherlock left. Even John couldn’t make him stay, not even his brother’s words, nothing. John was instantly worried about Sherlock as he was left alone at the flat with Mycroft tumbling his phone. “Nothing?” He asked.

“Nothing”, said Mycroft.

Minutes passed.

“May I borrow you laptop?” Mycroft asked but was already using it and had figured out the password. “Not a very cleaver one, John”.

“Why to bother, Sherlock would always know.”

It was five minutes after since Sherlock had left when Mycroft showed to John the CCTV footage of a car in which boot that girl had been forced to. She had tried to run, to escape, but it didn’t help. They followed the car going trough different cameras and then lost it. They couldn’t find the next camera were it was.

Then Mycroft had to leave after a fierce text messaging. John was left to figure out the CCTV camera movements. It took John fifteen minutes to locate the car again. Following it was easier as it headed to the outskirts of the city towards empty factory buildings, John realised. He wrote down the closest address and took a cap there.

It was looking a bit similar to the site where the bodies of the woman and a child had been found. But it wasn’t the same factory building. This one had old signs on its rooftop, “Smirkoff Textiles” and on a smaller print “family business”. The building most definitely belonged to the Russian mafia.

John realised that he must have looked odd there, a pedestrian on that district. John started walking around the factory protected by a fence. It took a while but he was able to find a gab in the wire. He opened it a bit more to fit from it more easily and then he run into the empty factory yard. John was careful. His military training helped him in this. He run next to a building and walked quietly around it to find an open door or a window or something. The door was locked but the factory looked empty. He needed to take a look inside. 

 

Then John remembered what Sherlock had said. The light came from a roof window. John didn’t like climbing. It was the one thing he had hated in the army and all his combat buddies knew that. He just preferred to stay in ground and now after the fall John had hated rooftops and high buildings even more. But he was going to do that. He was going to climb to a roof for Sherlock and for no one else. 

John counted that she had been gone for over twelve hours. As a doctor John was worried about her condition. Especially about the blood flow in to her what seemed to be broken arm. She needed to go to hospital. John felt pity for her. It mustn’t have been easy being tortured and beaten like that for someone, because of someone, for Sherlock. John would have taken every punch for Sherlock.

Then John found the rustic ladders going up. They didn’t look very steady, but he took the first step. For Sherlock.

\--

It had been hours. The pain didn’t go away. There was no one.

I thought that somehow they had forgotten me. 

I had to change the way I was sitting every now and then. My left wrist had gone numb. And my right wrist was useless. I had to try to get free. I had tried. But the plastic cable ties didn’t give up, they just dig into my skin, cut open my skin. They were too strong. It was so uncomfortable. So painful. So lonely. I didn’t know if they had left me to die there. I doubt they had. They would have just killed me so easily. 

It was hard to think anything but the pain, but it only made it worse. I tried to think everything else. Sherlock’s face was too blur to see, everyone’s was. I felt so alone. So much pain. My cribs hurt from the kicking. I was thirsty again. It was an agony.

Then I started hearing voices. Something on a roof perhaps. I couldn’t concentrate to it. Probably it was a bird or something. I didn’t want them back. The pain had made me cry all the tears I had in me. I couldn’t do it anymore. There were sounds in the factory. Why did they come back? I had been shivering like I had fever. Maybe I had. The sounds came closer. Footsteps. I cried to be quiet, maybe they didn’t remember I was there. It was stupid. I knew it. They would remember. 

I closed my eyes as they were hard to keep open. I had trouble with falling to sleep for a while. I didn’t want to, I had to resist. But they were closed again like I couldn’t control them. Make them open as I wanted to. My head had been leaning against the wall, it was as comfortable as I could get. I had tried to keep it up but it took so much energy. I was tired, so tired.

 

“Oh, my god”, said the voice.

 

Someone put his fingers in my neck. They didn’t hurt. I slowly made my eyes open. 

He was there. His best friend.

“You look so bad”, and then he was on the phone calling and at the same time opening the plastic cable ties trying to get me free. He was there to help me. He hung up the phone and with a little pocket knife he was able to break the ties. Then we heard noises from the factory door. John hide behind the doorframe but still kept eye on the factory. I could hear something poured to the floor. Then a soft click, steps and the door closing and locked. 

I could soon hear burning. John could see it. I could smell it. He helped me up. I barely could stand up. I felt weak. We couldn’t get to the front door.

“You have to climb”, John said to me. He looked me in to eyes. I couldn’t. I couldn’t even say it. “Look at me”. His eyes were so strong blue. “Now we are going to climb”.

He pulled me forward. Near the ladders. Then he took the first step. “You have to. It’s the only way.”

The smoke was already making me cough. He started climbing upwards. The ladders didn’t look strong at all. They made whining sound as I stepped on the first one. It was hard. I pulled myself up only with really one hand. It was hard to see, I felt like choking. He was on the top before me. He pulled me up slightly above my broken arm. It was the only way. It hurt but it couldn’t be helped. He was helping me. Letting me live. 

There we were on the roof and it was no way a save place. A burning building under us. I didn’t like heights at all. Neither did John, but he was there. Pulling me close to the building’s edge. Another ladders. We had to get down. He was taking control, pulling me from my left hand towards there. 

“I go first just like earlier”, John spoke while coughing. From that roof top window opening there was smoke coming.

I followed quietly. It was even more difficult to go down. I could only take one step at the time and while then I hung on my left hand’s weakening powers. The right one was hurting so much. I couldn’t keep it in balance. It was even slower, but it didn’t matter. John was shouting from down, “You can do it”

I stopped for a moment to breathe while coughing. It was hard not to lose grip. I made it. I made it and John gently pulled me from the ladders and made me sit on the ground. I could hear sirens.

I was so tired. It hurt so badly. The coughing hurt. I closed my eyes.

Then I was in ambulance. And then in a room. 

And all felt like I was in a ship. 

Like it was a ship on sea, waves moving it around. Everything swinging, the bed I was in. At least there was no pain in a ship. I was at sea. 

\--

She hadn’t said a word and that worried John. But nothing worried John more than the fact that he couldn’t find Sherlock. Couldn’t contact him. He hated it. He hated that it was so hard. He hated and still didn’t hate that girl. It was his Sherlock. It had to be only his best friend who he now was extremely worried about and she didn’t even know. She didn’t even know that it was Sherlock who had stepped into saving her. She didn’t deserve Sherlock in John’s opinion. It was cruel, nobody deserved. Not even John deserved of being his best friend. But if someone deserved being Sherlock’s girlfriend it was her. That girl. She was perfect. Had been. But now Sherlock was out of reach. 

John had texted to Mycroft. It hadn’t help. He had had someone following Sherlock at first but he had disappeared from the surveillance. He knew how to do that, he had before. Nobody knew where he was.

That feeling was killing John. The idea of him being gone. 

John had left Sherlock several messages. Texted ten’s of times. Send an e-mail even. 

There was no answer. Apparently his phone had been turned off.

Sherlock never voluntarily switched off his phone. Never.

John was in agony. He called even to Mrs. Hudson to contact him if Sherlock came home. John sat on a plastic chair in the hospital hallway, waiting. He wanted to see Sherlock just walking from the doors at the end of the corridor. 

 

Lestrade had been contacted. He was handling everything Sherlock related and that girl was Sherlock related.

He came there. Asked question from John, he had already had a report from Mycroft or someone, he just needed to know what had happened at the factory.

“You found her just in time”, Lestrade said. “She could have been killed in that fire”.

“We both nearly were”, John said to him.

“Did she say anything to you”, Lestrade asked.

“Not a word. That’s a bit worrying in fact. She hasn’t said a word since”. John told. “That’s my medical opinion.”

“So I shouldn’t go asking her question when she wakes up?” Lestrade asked.

“I think she might answer to direct questions”, John told. “But please don’t tell her then that Sherlock is missing”

“Tell me about where you found her”, Lestrade asked.

John spoke about it, it had been disturbing. She had looked almost dead. So tired, so weak. But the most impossible powers and strengths she had found when they had to climb. And after that it was all too much to her. She was never going to be a normal girl again, John knew that.

Lestrade left, told John to call. Even if he just wanted to speak to a friend.

John wanted to speak to a friend. To his best friend. Who had been gone from that afternoon and now night was closing by to midnight. The hospital was quiet from that part. Police officer at the girl’s door was watching after her, just in case if they really wanted to kill her.

And there on that clumsy chair John fall to sleep in the hours of really early morning. 

 

Then he woke up to a hand in his shoulder and a shadow over his body. A curly hair almost touched his head. 

And then John could smile. Even if it was dream it was feeling so real. The curly haired man didn’t really smile, he looked so tired.

The police was there at the chair watching them. It was real and not a dream.

“I was afraid for you”, John said. 

The other man sat next to John. “It wasn’t necessary”.

“Of course it was”, John insisted. 

“I need to thank you. You saved her. Thank you”.

“It was for you”, John said.

“I know”.

It was his Sherlock, his best friend really saying those things.

“What happened”, John asked.

“How bad was it for her”, Sherlock asked. “For you?” Sherlock’s face told he really cared.

“She should be alright. It’s going to take a while. Don’t worry too much”, John said.

“I won’t.” Sherlock never did. “How are you?”

“Better if you tell me what happened”, John said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The factory name is invented and the name means nothing. Never been in a fire and never recommend climbing up then. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, I would love to hear your thoughts!


	10. At The Hospital

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conversations at the hospital. Three important words said too early.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have never been in hospital at UK so this is purely based on my imagination.   
> I would love some comments about the chapter!

“It wasn’t exactly easy”, Sherlock said. “They should have just hired me”.

“They only wanted to hire you?” John asked a bit surprised.

“Well, I wouldn’t have taken the case otherwise”, Sherlock replied.

“That just makes this worse”, John said.

“The two men in the mafia were competing over the leaderships and the other one didn’t know that it was his uncle who was killing his family. I just needed to clear that to them and then escape”, Sherlock told to John.

“You managed to escape from the Russian mafia?”

“They were a bit occupied at that time”, Sherlock said.

“You made them fight to each other”. It wasn’t a question. John knew exactly what Sherlock had done. “So now you are on the hit list of both mafia family sides”.

“Probably”

“Are you going to do something about it?” John asked when Sherlock didn’t seemed worried about it at all.

“In the future. Did that satisfied you curiosity? Because now I want to see the bravest woman I know”, Sherlock was proud of her. 

 

John watched when his best friend went to see that woman. Sherlock first only looked at her and then gently kissed her forehead. She was asleep, had been sleeping only with the drugs. She still had given extra oxygen just for as precaution. They had even made John to take little oxygen at the ambulance. Other doctors had also insisted that he should be admitted but he refused. He promised to stay in the hospital but wouldn’t go in to emergency room or anything, he would watch after her. He was fine, the girl wasn’t. Now more than ever John found it difficult to call her a woman, she looked so young there, sleeping. John texted to Lestrade and Mycroft. Only Mycroft answered 

“Keep him there until morning  
M”

But John didn’t need to do anything about it. Sherlock didn’t move from her side. Sherlock just stood there, talked to the sleeping girl with a quiet voice that didn’t carry all the way to the hallway. John fell asleep again. He knew his friend wouldn’t leave. Not from her side. Then it was the morning and the nurses started to get anxious for getting home after night shift. Sherlock was still there at the room. He spoke to the sleeping girl. Now he sat beside her bed. 

\--

The ship wasn’t at the sea any longer. The waves weren’t big enough to move it. The sun was shining to my closed eyes. I felt that it couldn’t be the sun. It was steadier. It was a lamp. And the sea and the ship had gone and everything changed and turned to so real. So real that it hurt, burned in my body, it ache. It was a reminder to open my eyes, to see why it aches. There were white sheets, light blue curtains and a real window. Someone touched my arm.

“Hi there”, a soft voice.

It was his voice.

Now I could hear and see him. See his curls, his eyes, that colour of mixed green and blue with hint of brown in the middle. He was real. Not that thing in my mind. It all had been real. That’s why it hurt. It wasn’t bad, not really, not when I could see him but that little syllable escaped from my lips. “Au.”  
“I’ll call for the nurse. You are in pain”, he said.¨

“It doesn’t matter”, My mouth felt so dry, so hard. I tried to touch my lips with my hand but it was covered with plaster. “Oh, It’s really broken”. And so was my left middle finger and my wrist taped with gauze like were my ankles. I could feel it. I was awake. He was there. It was real.

“It was John”, I said. Remembered.

“Yes, he found you”, Sherlock said. His eyes looked sad.

“I’m sorry”, I said.

“For what”, Sherlock was surprised.

“For what I told about you”, I said.

“It wasn’t something you shouldn’t have. I’m sorry. For not been able to find you. To stop them taking you”, Sherlock said, it didn’t matter to him, what I had said.

“It’s alright”, I said.

“No, it’s not”, he tried.

“I need to thank John”, I said.

“I can go and get him”, Sherlock promised but hesitated leaving.

“Could I have some water”, I asked.

“I’ll get you some ice”, a nurse was in the room. “So you’re awake now. Are you in pain?”

“No”, I wasn’t really in that much pain, I didn’t want to numb the sensation of reality and feeling him there.

“Yes she is”, Sherlock said. He knew.

“Well, then you must tell me”, the nurse insisted.

“A bit maybe”, I said then, without the pain it didn’t feel real.

“I’ll go and get you something”, I didn’t pay much attention to the nurse.

While I got my meds Sherlock went to get John. He had been just at the hallway.

“Hi, how are you feeling”, he asked, looked a bit tired and grey. He smelled like smoke. There had been a fire. I remembered.

“Alright. You saved me. Thank you”, I owned him my life.

“You did it mostly yourself”, John said. 

“I know the truth even if you try to deny it”, I said. “Thank you”.

“John, I need to thank you too”; Sherlock said. “I owe you a favour”:

“Several”, John said.

“I guess I do”, Sherlock said and smiled. 

 

I wished I could be as strong as them, as good solving cases and everything, but I knew that wasn’t my place in world. It was theirs. I wasn’t settling to anything less, it was just different and I was a normal girl. I wanted normal things. I wanted a job and a life, not a life around work. 

“I hope you solved it all”, I said to Sherlock.

“Work in progress, I left the rest for the Yard”, Sherlock said.

“I know you didn’t. You can go, you know”, I said to him.

John was there awkward for our conversation. 

“I won’t, you know that”, He had his eyes in mine.

“I do, just saying you can. You should if you want to and need to”. It was like we had no need to say those words, but we said them for John’s sake. We didn’t need words to communicate. Just one look told so much. Words did clarify things but weren’t exactly needed. Not always. The silent conversation brought peace. It was calm in hectic life. We needed it. The calmness. Sherlock needed a quiet place even more. His head was always so full, so busy and so restless. My touch made it even better for him. He could relax. Let it all go. He had realised it all wouldn’t disappear. It would stay there and maybe even rearrange itself. 

 

“You shouldn’t really go”, John said to Sherlock. “Mycroft made me promise to keep you here”.

“Did he? Then he should be here soon”, Sherlock said. “Are you ready to meet my brother?” He asked from me.

I was ready to conquer the world with him. I think he knew it. “Sure”, I said. I don’t think you have the most traditional family”.

John laughed,” You couldn’t be more right. The first time I met him, he called himself as Sherlock’s archenemy”.

“I still call”, said a man at the door. He wore an expensive three piece suit and had an umbrella. I could see a resemblance to Sherlock. I think it was something in their noses.

“Hello, Brother”, Sherlock said. His voice wasn’t exactly welcoming.

“So you have once again got yourself into a trouble?” Mycroft said.

“I wouldn’t call it that”, Sherlock said, a bit annoyed.

“I wouldn’t deny the facts”, Mycroft said.

“It’s you interpretation of them”, Sherlock said.

“Let’s not start this again. I think there is someone you want to introduce to me”, Mycroft said.

“Mycroft, this is Elisa. Elisa, this is my brother”, Sherlock said quickly he wanted to get it over with.

“Nice to finally meet you”, Mycroft said.

“Sorry that I can’t shake your hand”, I saw how he tried to see things from me. More than he knew. He knew a lot. “Why don’t you tell Sherlock something about me he doesn’t know and then ask me anything”, I said. It surprised him.

“I said she was clever”, Sherlock said proudly.

“More than that I would say, even with the medication”, Mycroft said.

“Don’t you forget that I’m still here. Pretty tired though”, I said when they stared to each other for a while, had an argument without words.

“I don’t know what to tell”, Mycroft admitted. “He has figured you out so well without asking anything”.

Sherlock had a bit of grin in his face. 

“I know what you wanted to ask”, I said. “And the answer is no. I don’t want my life around work. I want them both. Separately“. I saw the question in his mind. The answer surprised him again. “I can’t say I won’t work for you. I can see the position you are in. You would control it anyhow.”

“Mycroft!” Sherlock almost shouted.

“I didn’t even ask anything”, Mycroft said.

“You shouldn’t”, Sherlock said.

“It’s my decision really”, I said.

“You are never going to be ordinary”, Sherlock said. “Not anymore”

“I might offer you something”, Mycroft said. 

“I might not take it”, I said.

“Fair enough. Now Sherlock, I need to talk to you, and Elisa, you should rest”, Mycroft said.

I felt that those conversations had taken a lot of my powers and the meds were making me sleepy. Three of them left and I well to sleep. 

 

An hour late I woke up, Sherlock was there. A doctor came and took some blood and altered my medication as I said it was too much that I couldn’t feel the pain at all and to me that was bad. Then a police man came, so I assumed as he had a female officer with him. “Good afternoon. I’m DI Lestrade and this is –“

I understood he wanted me to talk about what had happened. I knew something else. He had heard about me. He had curious eyes looking at me and for a moment at Sherlock, they knew each other. They could even be called as friends. I decided to give him the same treatment as I had given to Mycroft. I almost smiled, “Nice to meet you. I would prefer to talk just to you as you are Sherlock’s friend.”

Sherlock enjoyed. Lestrade looked at him. 

“I haven’t even mentioned you to her.” Sherlock said and laughed a little. I loved his laugh.

“Okay, if you want that”, Lestrade said.

“Sorry. It’s fine either way. I just wanted to give you a bit of shock treatment. I’m not normally acting this way, blame the meds. I’m sorry”, I said.

The female officer left the room anyway and Lestrade looked a bit odd. I felt a bit of blush in my cheeks, I knew what John had told him. I knew exactly. “Oh, so you had a nice little gossip moment with John at some point. And again I’m sorry. This, seeing things, is just hard to stop. At least I can stop it unlike Sherlock. So what do you want to know?”

Lestrade was used Sherlock behaving like that, but not for anyone else, it showed in his face. But still he began asking questions and I tried to answer. It was really hard though, talking about it. I cried a little. I felt so bad talking about it. Sherlock gave me a tissue to wipe my eyes and hold my left hand, but was careful with my finger. It was hard for him to listen.

“You have been really brave”, Lestrade said to me. 

“I really wasn’t”, I said. I just had coped. There had been nothing I could have done. “I wish we hadn’t met like this”.

“Thank you for talking about it. I’m clad to meet you, but not in this way. Sherlock I need a statement from you”, Lestrade said.

“I wasn’t there”, he said without even looking at Lestrade, eyes in me.

“It’s about the Russians”, Lestrade insisted.

“Couldn’t it wait?” Sherlock didn’t want to leave.

“Just go. It’s not like I’m going anywhere. But would you know where my phone is or could I use yours, Sherlock? I think my roommate must be worried.” I said.

Sherlock gave me his phone and then followed DI Lestrade to the hallway.

 

Asking his phone was a disaster. It was password protected. I looked at it. Tried to see it. All I could see that he had changed it quite recently. It was something resent. I stared at that smartphone and I couldn’t see it. I had to give up after 5 minutes. And using a phone with just 4 fingers of my left hand seemed quite difficult. It took another 20 minutes to Sherlock to return and by that time I had been given my lunch. I was so annoyingly helpless. The nurse had brought up a meal of potatoes and some sort of fish fingers. I guess they had decided that I was well enough to eat. Only problem was that slicing up the potatoes and fish fingers with one hand was rather difficult. And that hand being the left made it even more so. I didn’t know whether to burst in tears or to laugh. It was so slow. It felt so messy trying to aim a forkful of food to my mouth. “I don’t want your help. I need to handle on my own”.

He understood it and let me finish at my own time eating that cold food. “That was annoying”, I said then. “When are they going to let me go home?”

I knew he had had a chat with the doctors. “Tomorrow”.

“You don’t have to be here you know”, I said.

“I know”, Sherlock said, refused to leave.

“At least go and get something to eat. You haven’t eaten in a long time”, I wanted him to eat. He always forgot it or didn’t see it as a necessity. 

“I’m fine”, he said.

“I’m not about you not eating. At least pick up something and eat it here”, I asked for him.

“You want me to rebel against the hospital guidelines”, Sherlock asked.

“Better that than not eating. One thing before you go. Your password?” I said.

“Yes?”

“I don’t know it”, I said.

“Really?”

“You changed it quite recently, but that’s all I got”, I said, hoped it wasn’t terribly disappointing to him.

“It’s you”, Sherlock said a bit blushed.

“Me?” I was surprised.

“Your name”, Sherlock said calmly, like it was the most obvious thing.

“Oh”

Sherlock smiled. It was the most beautiful smile.

 

Charlie was a bit shocked on the phone. I had to repeatedly tell her that I was going to be fine. She wanted to come. She wanted to hear what had happened why I was at the hospital. I told her that I was getting home tomorrow but she still wanted to come, to know. I promised to tell her something if she would bring with her something for me to wear on next day and stuff like that.

“What am I going to tell her?” I asked from Sherlock.

“The truth?” Sherlock said.

“I can’t tell it like that”, I said.

“How else are you going to explain it?” Sherlock asked, he didn’t like lying. It complicated things often in his opinion.

“Accident?” I said.

“A car run you over?” Sherlock suggested.

“Would that be believable?” I wondered.

“Not to us”, he said.

“She’s not that cleaver”, I said. 

“How easy it must be for ordinary people”, Sherlock said.

“I was one of the ordinary people”, I said.

“You were never ordinary, you just hadn’t realised your full potential”, Sherlock said.

“Thanks”, I didn’t quite know what to think.

“You will never be ordinary”, Sherlock mend it as a compliment.

“Well, I have question for you. I have no idea how am I going to wash my hair like this.” I said, not meaning it to a real question.

“I could wash it for you”, Sherlock said. He actually did mend it.

“We are not there yet”, I said.

“We could be, should be really”, Sherlock said. I liked that thought. He wanted us to be more.

“We don’t do anything in a normal way, do we”, I said.

“Not really. I wouldn’t really want to”, he said.

“Neither do I”, I said.

“That’s why I love you”, Sherlock said.

 

He said it there. Made me blush. Panic. 

 

“Is that too much, too soon?” Sherlock asked then, seeing my reaction to the words.

“Not if you really mean it”, I said.

“I do”, he said.

“I know”, it was obvious.

He didn’t expect me to say it back. Not yet. I wasn’t as comfortable with it as he was.

“I’m going to say it in my own language when I really mean it”, I said. “It means a lot”

“I know”, he said.

“I’m just not quite there yet”, I said.

“It doesn’t matter. I know how much it means to say to you”, Sherlock said. 

“Really?”

“It’s obvious. It’s a bit soon for you. It doesn’t matter though. You will get there, I know”, Sherlock said. 

Even though he said that it didn’t matter I didn’t think that way. I was a bit afraid that I wasn’t enough for him, not in that way. He had mend it, really did. And it made me feel a bit out of placed. We did nothing in normal way, not in the way ordinary people did things. And how long had we even known each other, not long at all. We even hadn’t really been together, not in that way. I wondered what it did mean to him. And he had said those three little words before that, mend them. That most certainly wasn’t the normal way of doing things. 

 

He stayed the whole day. When Charlie came to visit she was a little shocked by how I looked and how he looked. Then she really could see what I had meant with the word beautiful, because he was. Charlie was worried about me. 

“Did they catch that driver”, she asked, believed that story, the lie.

“Police is working on it”, Sherlock said.

I could see that Sherlock could only tolerate her. Well Sherlock wasn’t that good with people. “Why don’t you go and get yourself a cup of coffee”, I asked for him. And he left, just because I asked, otherwise he had stayed and listened there our boring little conversation.

“He has been here the whole time?” Charlie asked.

“Yes he has, I told him that he didn’t need to, but he wanted to”, I said.

“So you two are more than just dating now”, Charlie said.

“I guess we were from the moment we met”, I admitted. Most definitely it was more.

“Somehow he’s a bit odd”, Charlie said then.

“I know”, I said and smiled.

“You really are head over heels for him, aren’t you?” Charlie said.

“I think I am. It’s so crazy being like this. And you know, he makes my life better with just a smile”, I told.

“Crazy, that’s what you are”, Charlie said and smiled, “I still can’t believe you hurt yourself like that in car accident. You are always so careful crossing streets”.

“I guess I wasn’t careful enough this time”, I said. It had nothing to do how careful I had been.

“How are they taking your sick leave at the office”, Charlie asked.

“For some reason I don’t think it matters that much”, I had seen the look on Mycroft face. I was going to get a job offer if I ever needed one or wanted one. It just was that I wanted a normal job or something that I could leave behind when I left from work. Charlie left by the time Sherlock got back. He probably had stayed somewhere close by to see when she left.

“Now you have met my roommate”, I said to him, I knew what he thought of her.

“I think I prefer mine”, Sherlock said.

“I know you do”, I said and smiled to him.

“But she is your friend so I will try”, Sherlock promised.

“That’s all I want. Just because I’m a bit girly and normal with her doesn’t mean that I’m like that”, I said.

“You just want a bit of normality every now and then”, Sherlock concluded. 

“That’s exactly what I mean. And with her it’s easy”, I said.

“I can understand that. And I know what you mend when you said to Mycroft that you want things separately. I don’t”, he said. 

I was a bit worried that was I going to be enough for him, not wanting to work with him. I just wanted to be with him.

“I want a bit of normality in my life”, I said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!   
> Right now I'm writing the chapter 15 and half way finished with chapter 16. I'm excited! How about you? :)


	11. After The "Accident"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The deer stalker is mentioned.  
> John's blog.  
> And tea at Mrs Hudson's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is again, a new chapter. With this phase I will have to hurry with writing the few last ones. In this chapter there is some nice little conversations and a mention off the fall. Some curse words used also. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy reading!

When John returned to Baker Street first he had to reassure Mrs Hudson that Sherlock was back and fine. Then he went to upstairs and slept for few hours. Being around them just that time and what she had said to Mycroft had made John realise something. She wasn’t trying to take his place. She only wanted to be part of his life, not all of it. John thought that he had been stupid, somehow jealous to her. That girl. John felt himself somehow older compared to Sherlock and Elisa. John was older for couple of years than Sherlock. They deserved happiness. John was now glad that Sherlock had found someone who could share the world he saw. They really matched together. They were the opposites but still similar. The same. 

On that evening John got a call from Lestrade, he wanted to have a chat. He sometimes went for pint to a pub with Lestrade, they were friends alongside they often worked together. Moriarty had seen how Sherlock had been friend with him too, even though they rarely changed a kind word, but they were friends. In some level they trusted to each other. Lestrade had always been a bit worried about Sherlock in a paternal way, like a big brother. Sometimes John had wondered that how Sherlock managed to have friends for being such an annoying twat. But Sherlock was just being Sherlock. And now he seemed a bit different. Lestrade met John after working hours, still wearing the same suit as morning. At that pub they often went when they both had had enough of Sherlock. That was the same place were Greg had told John that his wife was divorcing him. Now that already had happened and Greg was living alone and missing his kids, whom he saw during weekends if even then. 

John got himself a pint and went to sit to the table where Greg was.

“Well how about that. The famous Sherlock fucking Holmes managed to find someone”, Greg had already taken a few too much, John saw.

“I guess it was a bit surprise”, John said.

“Everyone though that you two had some sort of arrangement.” Greg said.

“We. Did. Not.”, John said. He had had enough about that subject. “I’m not gay, I’m with Sarah”.

“How’s that going?” Greg asked then. 

“Better than before, I think”, John said, things were a bit better now.

“She might be worth of keeping, but you never know with women, do you”, Greg said.

“Don’t you think you have had enough”, John asked when Lestrade finished his pint.

“One more, then I’ll go. I know that where my limits are. It’s not like I’m going to get that promotion anyway, not after all the mess”, he said. Blurred already a little with his words.

So something at work wasn’t going as he hoped, John realised. He had had a rough batch. Everything kept on building up.

“Things will turn out fine”, John said to him.

“What sort of fortune teller you think you are, mister positive attitude” Greg was only irritated by his words.

“I think you better take a cab now than wait for the barman to throw you out”, John said.

“I know when I’m meant to leave”, Greg stood up and walked towards the door. It wasn’t exactly the most straightest line.

John followed and got him to a cab and all the way to his flat. And made sure he had an alarm clock waking him up at the morning for work if he was capable of going. Greg fell to sleep his clothes on to his bed. John put a class of water to his bedside table with an ibuprofen and left a note at his kitchen counter. 

“Call when you feel better.  
\-- John.”

Greg’s flat looked so miserable. It had no colours, everything was grey and all the things mismatched. Greg didn’t want to be in there that was obvious. He had no pictures of his children there, no toys, not anything that reminded him of what he had lost. But there was nothing that could have made him happy. He needed to really clean the place. The sofa looked like he had slept there the most nights, if he had slept at all. John was worried about Greg.

\--

Sherlock didn’t even left for the night, even though the nurses asked him to go, he refused. He would stay there until I got home. Sherlock crawled to my side at the bed when I was ready to fall asleep. Sherlock had his arms around me and I felt so save. He buried his nose to my hair. “The strawberry scent isn’t so strong anymore”, Sherlock whispered quietly. He said it and meant that I wasn’t so naïve anymore about the world. 

I fell asleep there and slept better than in ages. I woke up at the morning for sunshine. It had been 7 hours and Sherlock was still sleeping his arms around me. He looked comfortable there, so calm so beautiful. I could have watched him sleeping forever. 

Sherlock never slept that long, but there he was, still sleeping his hand around me. He had slept solid 7 hours. I didn’t know if he ever had slept that long. I felt satisfied by giving him that much sleep. Slowly he started opening his eyes and stretching his toes and fingers and arms.

“Did you sleep well”, I got courage to ask. 

“Never better, really”, he said.

“Do you know how long you slept”, I asked.

“Oh, oh. That’s a lot”. He looked like he couldn’t quite understand that it really was that time and he had slept that long.

That hospital bed had been wide enough for two of us crawled up together like that, but after waking up, he just kissed my forehead and jumped of the bed.

“You’re going home today!” Sherlock was happy about it. “I never want see you in hospital, ever again.”

“Neither do I. When can I go?”

“I’ll go and find out”, Sherlock said and left and I got a moment for myself, wash my teeth and that sort of things. It was hard and I hated the hospital clothes. The stupid plaster made everything difficult. I looked my face in the mirror and understood why they all had looked at me so strangely. I had not felt it so but now I saw. I looked so bad. Really bruised. My face didn’t belong to me. And for some reason in that bathroom I felt scared. It reminded me of that place, I felt hard to breathe. I started shaking. It was hard to stand up. It all came back. It all went black and white and check board pattern covered my eyes. I tried not to pass out. That was how I felt when I was about to faint. I tried to hold on to the sink but my legs just gave up and I was on the floor and it went all dark. In my head I was back there. Back there with pain and fear. Then it started turning a bit whiter again. I felt someone holding me, and then I saw him holding me. I felt the safe again.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

Then a nurse came. “Did you faint?” They hurled around me and it was annoying. 

“I just fainted, that happens sometimes, it’s alright”, I tried to say.

Sherlock was more worried. I could see it. “Just give me something to eat and I’ll be fine. I was just up too soon”.

“I don’t think you should leave quite yet”, the nurse said.

“I’m fine”, I said and slowly stood up. 

They made me stay at the hospital for afternoon. I wanted to go home. I got a two weeks sick leave. What was I going to do for two weeks? 

“I can keep you busy”, Sherlock promised, when we got to a cab outside of the hospital.

“I bet you do”, I said. 

 

My flat looked so different, like it was all colours and shapes and everything too much. I slept a lot, took a shower before Charlie got back from work. I washed my hair ones more with that familiar strawberry shampoo, but decided that it had to be the last time. For that day I rested, Sherlock came to visit me at evening with food. He was sweet doing it. When he left Charlie talked to me.

“He’s bit older, isn’t he?” Charlie asked.

“Yes, but not that much”, I said.

“In his thirties, still?”

“Early thirties”

“Why isn’t he married then or something?”

“Well he wouldn’t then be with me, would he? I guess he just hasn’t found anyone”, I said. The truth was that others had never really interested him. He had never felt that sort of connection before, never even looked for one. He hadn’t been the one for the relationships. 

“I just think there is something odd in him”, Charlie said.

“There is, I’m not denying that. He is cleaver, smarter than anyone I ever met”, I said. 

“Somehow he is so posh, so upper class and still mingles with normal people. He seems so in love with you”, Charlie said.

“I think he is”, I blushed. I knew he was but I couldn’t tell it to her.

“I haven’t seen you like that with anyone. You look like you had been together for a long time”, Charlie told to me. 

I laughed, “And never even had sex” .

Charlie laughed too. “Really, I assumed that you had it already in mind on the first day you met”.

“Yeah, in mind. Never got that far before this”, I said. ”Who would want to have sex with someone looking like this, and all cripple”. 

“Oh, poor him, having to wait”, Charlie laughed. “He must think it is worth of waiting”.

We giggled over it like we used to at the university parties. It was nice for a moment, be like that, forget everything. Gossip while drinking tea.

 

At night it was hard to fall to asleep. I had nightmares. I woke up screaming. Charlie knocked to my door and came in. “Are you alright?”

“It was just, I was there. I was there”, I was still confused by the dream.

“Was it about the accident?” Charlie asked.

Yes, I had told her that it had been an accident. That was it.

“Yes”.

“Don’t worry, it was just a dream. Everything is fine now”, Charlie said.

But it wasn’t. I realised then what the medicine had made me partly forget. His words, work in progress. It wasn’t all settled yet. I couldn’t know if I was in danger, I didn’t think I was. But he was and he knew it. And still he had let it go for that entire day he had spent at the hospital with me. And even today, he had wasted time for my sake. 

“Are you sure you are alright”, Charlie asked again.

“Yeah, I’m just going to stay up for a bit. Go to sleep”, I said.

“Okay, good night”, Charlie said and left.

 

I couldn’t sleep. I put the lights on and sat to my computer. I googled his name.

That was a mistake.

The same time I wish I had googled his name earlier and that I had not done it.

He was trouble. 

How could I not have known? I clearly had not paid any attention to news on my first year at university or the second or the last, all of my time in UK. Not the news that mattered now. I had not recognised him. He had not looked familiar to me at all. I guess I had seen the picture of the deer stalker hat, but nothing else I could remember. He had been famous. 

And John had a blog. 

I read the blog all night. There was the shock as it had been in the news, his death. He had faked his own death. John had not written his blog after that only continued after several months. I didn’t know what had happen. It was obvious that not so many people knew that he wasn’t death. It wasn’t news worthy as the “fake genius death” had been. He was back but all much quieter than before on news sense. 

After finishing the blog I wasn’t quite sure what to think. It was already early morning. I just sat there. I didn’t know if I was going to freak out about it. I should have known him better by now. Someone should have said something to me. But did it matter? 

 

Did it matter that he had jumped of a building and been dead for six months? He was back like nothing had happened. Like he had not done anything, like everything was fine now. I couldn’t find anywhere from the news why he did it. I couldn’t believe the explanation that he did it to cover his betrayal. More likely I believed that Moriarty had been real. That something had made him fake his own death. Someone. He hadn’t done it for him but for someone. He had died for someone.

After the traffic hour I left the flat and went to Baker Street. It was after nine and I had slept only few hours, I knew I looked bad. I tried to cover my face with make-up and a hat but it didn’t really fool anyone who actually looked. So I was there knocking at their flat’s door and not knowing exactly what to say. I wanted to talk to Sherlock.

 

But it wasn’t Sherlock who came to open the door or John, it was a bit older woman.

“How can I help you, dear?” She asked.

I was a bit afraid to look at her, to show my face. The jacket covered my arm in most parts.

“I was hoping to see Sherlock”, I said.

“Sherlock, my dear, I don’t think he is at home”, she said.

“Oh, I guess I should have called him first”, I said. “It’s alright then. Thank you.” I really should had called to him.

“Doctor Watson could be home”, she suggested.

“No, it’s alright. I just wanted to see Sherlock. I should have called”, I said. I was a bit anxious, nervous about it. I hated to be alone in there talking to a stranger, walking alone at the city. The bus drive there had been better, I had been around people. Now that I was nearly alone at the street it was bit more difficult.

“Are you quite alright?” She asked. “You look rather tired and nervous. Would you come in for a cup of tea?”

“Thank you, but I’m fine. Just wished I could have met him”, I said. 

Then I saw John walking from the door. “Good morning, Mrs Hudson, good morning, Elisa”, he said. “I’m sorry, but Sherlock is out on a case”.

“Yes, good morning, I just heard. It’s fine though, I call him later”, I said.

“Oh, my dear, you are that woman! Sherlock’s sweetheart!” Mrs Hudson realised.

“Mrs Hudson, this is Elisa Berg”, John introduced us.

“You must come for tea”, she insisted still.

“Then you’ll hear if Sherlock will be back”, John said. “I must hurry though to the clinic”. And John left walking towards the street’s end.

“Come in now”, she said once more and I followed. She was their landlady but also a friend. She was the one woman Sherlock cared about. 

 

So I went into her apartment, it was on the street level, pretty, decorated with light colours. She offered tea to me, I left my hat and jacket to hallway. “My dear, what happened to you? Did you end up in middle of their adventures?” She asked when she saw my face. 

“Something like that”, I said. I felt so stupid unable to help her with the tea. I just sat in the kitchen table. 

She was a sweet person, cared a lot about the boys upstairs. I felt a bit more relaxed. We chatted on irrelevant things, just like normal people do. It was quite nice still. “You understand Sherlock, don’t you?” She asked then.

“I guess I do. We are similar in some levels”, I said.

“I’m so glad that he has found someone”, she said.

“People keep saying that”, I noted.

“You must be so special to him”, she said.

I felt a bit awkward, I knew I was special to him. Why hadn’t he then talked about those things that happened a year ago?

 

Then we heard noise from the outdoor. “Sherlock, my dear!” Mrs Hudson raised her voice a bit and Sherlock was there in just so soon.

“You didn’t sleep last night”, was the first thing Sherlock said to me.

“I did for few hours”, I said. 

“Sherlock is it you fault that she is hurt?” Mrs Hudson asked.

“Yes”, Sherlock said at the same time that I said. “No”.

We stared at each other.

“It’s not your fault”, I said. 

“It is”, Sherlock said. “Of course it is”.

“You can’t really say that, I not blaming you”, I said. I wasn’t

“You should”, Sherlock said with steady voice.

“I needed to talk to you”, I said, asked for his attention for it.

“Let’s go upstairs”, he said.

“Thank you for tea, Mrs Hudson”, I thanked.

“You welcome my dear, hope you pop up to tea some other time”, she said.

 

At upstairs I didn’t know how to begin. We sat down to their sofa. 

“You have been reading”, Sherlock said. “That’s why you didn’t sleep”.

“I just don’t understand”, I said. “I had never heard you name before”.

“Then you weren’t paying attention to the news”, Sherlock said.

“I guess I wasn’t. But why did you fake you own death? You couldn’t have done it for you.” I said.

“You are right. It wasn’t for me. It was all because of Moriarty. The one archenemy that was real. I had to vanish, to be able to save everyone and destroy his criminal organisation”, Sherlock said.

“You did it for John?” I guessed.

“For him too. And others”, he said.

I don’t know why it had bothered me so much at night and now it didn’t. That he had done it. 

“You care more about people than you admit”, I said.

“Some of them”, he said.

“But you didn’t care about clearing your name afterwards”, I said.

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t need or want the attention of papers and everything. I don’t want it. Please don’t say you liked that deer stalker”, Sherlock spoke.

“I hated it”, I said laughingly.

 

Things were good. Things were even bit better when Sherlock carefully kissed me. So gently so careful not to hurt me. 

 

“Maybe I should have mentioned it to you”, he said.

“It doesn’t matter. I guess I was just surprised over that all”, I said.

He moved slowly his thump over my lips.

“They didn’t really need anything from you. They just were waiting for me”, Sherlock said then.

 

They had tortured me for nonsense information. For nothing. It was like I had thought once before. It was all for his sake, not his fault but because of him. I had just been a way to get to him. I was always going to be that. They would hurt me to hurt him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I really like Mrs Hudson, she is so sweet but strong at the same time. Always cares about the boys at upstairs.


	12. Christmas And Baker Street

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Violin playing is beautiful. Important words. Things are good. What if things can't continue to be the same anymore? What is the right choice?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't quite believe that someone could be reading this! I'm really new to writing in English and very shy about my writing, but everytime the hits number goes up it makes me smile so stupidly. :)

John arrived a bit late at the clinic, so he quickly placed a kiss to Sarah’s hair before they opened the doors for patients and pulled his doctors coat on. The day was rather busy and they took a break together during lunch hour. John wanted to talk to Sarah about something, about their relationship. John wanted more, he was ready for more. John was happy at that day. Like everything finally had found a balance and he was going to shake it a little bit.

\--

Things were going well. I met Sherlock few times a week at least. He often brought food and watched me eating. He really liked that and I liked watching him sleep. I hated it, not being able to touch him like I wanted. He was careful about me, spent a lot of days with me. He took me to parks and just for walks. He made me observe more than ever. I could see. I could see and feel the answers but not always know where I got the answers from. I looked like normal without noticing that uncomfortable cast in my right arm that made life so much more difficult. The autumn was turning colder. On afternoon we were back at that park where everything had started in a way. It was calm Saturday. It was calm atmosphere even though there were people, children playing, joggers, people enjoying the windy sunny day.

Sherlock hold my left hand while we walked there. The connection between us was still so strong, even stronger. We enjoyed spending time together. It had been three weeks since the so called accident and I had been back at work for a week. I was clad over it. It was good to be back at work. I hated it still, but could see the open opportunities ahead of me. One more week and I would have my hand back. We sat to one of benches. It was quite windy, Sherlock lift his jacket’s collar up. He looked so handsome in that way, like a model really. I felt so inadequate compared to him. But for some miracles reason I was enough for him. 

We were together the whole day. And in the evening we went to have dinner together in a French restaurant. It was something special for us. It was special to me. I said it there while he hold a white wine class at his lips. The three little words. Those three little words made no sense to him but still he knew what I had said. 

It had been the words that mend the most.  
Minä rakastan sinua.

I was all his. All I wanted was him.

He was shocked by it, in a way. About all the emotion. Unable to drink that wine he had been holding so he put it down and took my hand over the table and hold it. “You really said it, didn’t you?”

“Yes”, I said. “I said it”.

“It sounded so different”, Sherlock said

“It means much”, I said.

“It does”, he just hold my hand.

And then the waiter came and we lost the moment. After the dinner we walked a while at the streets, didn’t get to a cap and drove to his flat. We enjoyed. The city that mend so much for us. I was in my high heels for once and wearing clothes that made me feel beautiful despite the cast and everything. That time at his flat we didn’t drink tea. We just walked to his bedroom and enjoyed each other’s company really for the first time. 

It was a perfect sensation, completely, utterly perfect. The movement, touching, the feeling, kisses, touches. Him. We were perfect to each other. Teasing kisses, demanding touch. We barely were able to breath, but still our hearts beat at the same rhythm for a moment.

Nothing else in the world mattered. We were in love. It was like nothing before. 

 

For the first time I didn’t go home for Christmas, mostly because he asked me to stay. And I wanted to stay for him. I enjoyed the few free days of Christmas that we stayed at his flat together. We even cooked some Christmas foods. I wore a silly red sweater and he hated it. He always tried to take it off. That might also had something to do with the fact that John was spending his Christmas with Sarah and we had the flat all for us. And for surprise the night before Christmas was case free. At Christmas day’s evening all off their friends gathered there for a party like they had done upon the years. It most certainly was a different Christmas for me. 

 

It was at the Christmas party where I first met John’s Sarah. She was lovely, “I can’t believe that you actually exist”.

“For everyone that seems to be such a surprise. Nice to meet you too”. It was good to talk to Sarah. 

She knew about everything they did and she had tolerated it with John while they were friends, while they were dating and while they were together. Sarah and I knew how to talk to each other what to talk about. It was like we knew we should be friends and we wanted to be friends.

There was also Molly and Lestrade. I could see them as a couple. They would be good together now that Lestrade’s divorce had been finalised. But they didn’t realised how they could be good together. Of course there was Mrs Hudson. She called me girl and talked about the boys and their adventures. 

“Sherlock was impossible before John and now with you he is almost likable”, she said and laughed, “you sweet girl you are just so sweetheart”. 

Somebody had out too much rum to her drink. “I wish Sherlock had found you earlier. Maybe he should have gone to grocery store more often”.

They all had heard the story how we had met.

“I just wish that when two of you move in together that you will stay in touch with their old landlady”, she continued.  
“Of course we will”, I promised even though I was scared about the idea of living with Sherlock, just the two of us. It was hard for me to see, us living together somewhere. Well at least I wasn’t going to be doing all the cleaning. 

“We will hire someone”, Sherlock said then suddenly whispered to my ear.

I was surprised, “Oh I didn’t realise you were there.”

Sherlock had his hands around me like he was hugging me from behind and whispering words to my ear that others weren’t supposed to hear, he had had a drink or two. “I love you. I would love to living with you. I would love waking up beside you, eating breakfast with you, watch you eat, see you going to work and then be there when you come home --”

“Home”

“—for teatime. Spending the evening with you. Going to sleep with you. Saying good night”.

Those words had the same effect as they had been kisses to my pare skin.

“And all you heard from that was one word”, Sherlock said.

“I want to have something with you that we could call home”, I said, realising it then.

“I want that too”, he said and kissed me gently. It was our first kiss in plain sight of other people. We didn’t care at all that they saw, we only saw each other. 

“Oh, you sweethearts are so lovely together”, Mrs Hudson said. 

I felt all silly and girly. He loved being there so close to me, touch me while we were in company. He held my hand, kept his fingers on my shoulder or in my waist or his favourite place, around my right wrist. I knew he punished, reminded of himself while kept his fingers on my wrist, but he cared. He wanted to. He needed to feel the connection. Then he could bare it, empty his mind a bit for the nonsense of mingling, he could tolerate it then. 

He didn’t say anything about it at first. He just started playing his violin. It was beautiful, ever changing, bright but calm, energetic but not too wild. Nothing I had heard before. Sherlock looked so amazing while playing. I never even liked the sound of violin before, now I loved it. John stared at me the whole time Sherlock played. He had heard it before, he knew what it meant. 

The lively tune was incredible. When it was finished we sat there in silence. I was the first to say anything, “It was beautiful”.

Others embraced it also, John said nothing, except asked “What did you name it?”

Sherlock had composed it, of course he had. He was brilliant.

“Elisalleni”, Sherlock said, “to my Elisa”.

“It was for me? I have never heard anything so beautiful”, I said.

“Sherlock started working on it on the day you met”, John said.

It meant too much. I was in tears. Sherlock panicked over them. 

“I’m just so happy and delighted over that song. I can’t believe that you cave it a Finnish name”, I was barely capable of saying that. 

Sherlock still looked like he had never seen anyone crying. At least not for happiness. And in moment he was by my side looking at my eyes, trying to see if I was okay. Of course I was, better than that. I tried to smile for him. 

“You feel so much. It’s so hard to understand”, he said. 

He wiped my tears with his thumb away and we went to talk for a while at the kitchen. Somebody but the music back on but we didn’t care. To us it was just us there. He felt my emotions through my eyes, through my pulse, through my breathing. He kissed me and we were one. 

It might have been because of the few class of wine but I felt so good, like I could and wanted to spend rest of my life with him. Just there, together, being one. 

After Christmas things settled to a more normal way, we didn’t see each other as quite so often. Sherlock had cases, I had work. I spent time with Charlie and Sarah. But often for the nights Sherlock came and slept beside me and in the morning he had gone. He didn’t need that much sleep, but I needed him. I still had nightmares about what had happened. We went out, we had dinner, he took me to observe and deduce things, nothing dangerous of course, but it was nice. He wanted me to be better, but didn’t want me to do anything I didn’t want. It was all good.

One evening just after I had got home from work I talked with Charlie about him for some reason she didn’t see him as good as he was.

“The way he holds his hand in your wrist looks like he has control over you. Like you are submissive to him”, Charlie said.

“It’s not that”, I said, but couldn’t really explain it to her without telling that the accident had not been an accident at all. 

And on one Friday evening we went to a party that Mycroft was hosting. I didn’t really asked why we went there, why Sherlock had said yes to going. It was nice of course, but not something what Sherlock enjoyed. He had brought me a dress. I couldn’t believe it. A long dress made of silk. It was the most expensive dress I ever had. It was beautiful, dark blue well draped and the design looked so beautiful in me. I could hardly believe it was me who I saw at the mirror. And Sherlock was wearing his finest dark suit with dark blue shirt without a tie of course, he never wore a tie. I know we looked good together, he was so handsome and I was having difficulties just to breathe while I watched him at the ballroom. It was nothing like the parties I went to, he went to. These were all upper class, well educated people with trust funds or high places in the government. I was nobody among them, I was nobody among anyone. 

But Sherlock fitted there, he fitted to every crowd. He was beautiful and young and I was just average. Less than that, I thought. The dress helped a bit, his arms around me even more. His whispers in my ears made me forget everyone else there and I was relaxed, at least after a class of champagne. Every now and then Sherlock trusted me to handle myself and him to not die out of boredom and went to disturb the politicians and bank owners and tell that their security systems weren’t working from certain places or that their wives were cheating on them or just to talk and gather information. I mingled too, in my own way, I also talked to Mycroft. He wanted to talk to me. He had been observing us. The way we moved there, how we moved together.

“Has my brother control over you?” He asked bit worried.

“You are thinking about his fingers in my wrist”, I knew what he had meant.

“Yes”, Mycroft said.

“It’s quite the opposite. The fingers around my wrist are his punishment to himself and my control over him. It’s his caring”, I said. To him I could trust the truth.

And then Sherlock came back to me from talking to some Mycroft’s people. “Before you Sherlock never came to my parties”, Mycroft said.

“Why would I have? If they were as tedious as this is I didn’t miss a thing”, Sherlock said to Mycroft. “Only for you I can tolerate this. Can we go and dance”, he continued to his speech to me.

“Yes, I would like that”, I said and we left Mycroft alone. “I just not sure if I know how to”. I knew the basic waltz steps and rhythm of movement, but I hadn’t danced since upper secondary school.

We had never really danced together either, just a bit in some restaurant where he had taken me. But this was better, so much better. He had his eyes in my and all I had to do was to follow. He knew how to dance. He was really good. “You learned this when you were young”, I said.

“One of the few things that my mother taught to me”, he said.

\--

John talked about it to Sherlock first time at January. He just mentioned the possibility and told that he was moving out on February. John had been a bit worried how Sherlock would take it, but it went fine, but Sherlock was rather thoughtful after that. On the next week he found out why from Sarah. It was alright by him, they were moving fast, but Sherlock never was slow in his movements. The sweet and weird couple were going to move to Baker Street when John and Sarah would found a place of their own. 

\--

Sarah was the one talk to my about it first while we were having dinner together while the boys were running after a case. We were used to it, them just disappearing for couple of days for a case. So we often met and had dinner and talked not to feel so lonely and neglected. We really weren’t it was just their job and it took them to all of the adventures and we had had our share of it even if we didn’t have wanted it. 

“We might be moving in together with John”, Sarah said to me.

“That sounds nice! Have already started looking for a place?” I asked. 

“A bit, something near the clinic would be good”, she said. 

They were so more settled, had jobs that they liked, where moving in together. Well they were older, of course, but I had always fun with Sarah and it was nice to have a more stable friend, someone with a real profession and all. 

“That’s a really good neighbourhood”, I said to her.

“Well it’s still rather nice and quiet and the rent isn’t really that bad”, she said.

“You are getting pretty serious now”, I noted. 

“I just think that John has finally made up his mind and knows what he wants”, Sarah said.

“That’s really good for you two, I’m glad”, I said.

“Me too”, Sarah said and smiled, “Not that he would spend that much time at Baker Street even now”.

“I think I am there even more than he is”, I said. “Things really are good with you”.

“How about you and Sherlock? How are things with you two?” She asked.

“I think well, but we just are, not thinking about it. Not over analysing. We are us and that’s good for us”, I said. 

“That’s good place for you then”, she said.

I knew it was. I never felt like I had to think about our relationship. We loved each other, that was quite enough. We had no plans, no hopes, we were at the moment and that was enough.

Sarah had been at the clinic, where she and John worked, all day. She always took extra-long days when John was gone. 

 

A week later Sherlock and I were just walking back to my flat from Costa’s with coffees, I had run out of the real one and instant is just horrible, and I was glad that the air was so cold. It would be nice to be back inside with his arm around me. But Sherlock was bit absent. He was thinking about something, something he wanted to ask but wasn’t quite sure about. 

“You want to talk about something”, I said.

“Yes”, Sherlock said and stopped walking. “I want to ask something, but it’s too early. I know it. And I am thinking too much about the practical things in this matter.”

Oh, I knew what he wanted to ask.

“It’s about Baker Street, isn’t it?” I asked.

“Yes, you know?” Sherlock was a bit surprised.

“I know that Sarah and John were looking for a place”, I said.

“Not anymore”, Sherlock said. “They found something”.

“And you don’t want to leave Baker Street but you don’t really want a new flatmate either”, I said aloud what he had been thinking.

“You really know”, Sherlock said, “I just wish… I know it is…” It was hard for him to find words. “Would you like to move in there? To live with me.”

I had to think about it. I sipped my coffee and wondered. Things between us were good. Should things change? Do I want them to change? Was I ready for a change? 

Things would change despite what my answer would be. Things had change when he asked. It was just there, did I want to take that step. Was I ready for it, was he, us? I was scared about the idea but same time I wanted it. It was about taking the step to the unknown. It was an adventure. 

And I wanted an adventure with him.

Sherlock looked nervous. “It is too soon”, he said. “I know it”.

“It is, but does that really matter?” I asked. “We aren’t really doing anything else in the traditional way. Not in normal way. We aren’t ordinary people as you said”.

Sherlock smiled, “I guess not”.

“If we don’t take it too seriously, which I doubt you do, then yes”, I said. “It makes sense in practical way”. I didn’t use my emotions too much for the decision.

It was an exciting idea, the tough of it, us living together. We both needed space of our own, time and space. 

“Are you sure?” Sherlock asked.

“Do you have to ask?” I said and took his hand to mine. “I look at it as an adventure”.

“Well you know how annoying I can be”, Sherlock said.

I had lost my temper to him few times, for his lack of caring on others and to his absence when I wanted to have a contact to him. Put it always was the cases that took him away. When he was with me, he really was with me, but when he was gone it was impossible to reach to him. One thing that bothered me was his experiments, all those bloody things at the fridge and on counters. But I didn’t mind the clutter all around the flat. It was personality of the flat and its inhabitants. And it was all clear in his head.

“I know. We both will need time and space of our own. Maybe you haven’t seen how annoying I can be”, I said and laughed.

“Oh, I have. “ Sherlock said and laughed. He had never lost his temper with me like I had lost mine with him so it bit surprised me.

“You want to be normal so badly sometimes”, he said to explain.

It didn’t matter to me, I wanted sometimes to be normal and it wasn’t difficult to admit that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm currenly working on the chapter 14 and it seems that there migh be 18 chapter instead of 17 or this one (14) is just going to be really really long. So longer chapters or more chapters? More action maybe or conversations? Now you readers get to say something if you want. :)


	13. The Moving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who is moving?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry that it has taken this long to update a new chapter! I've been really busy with university.

“Are you going to advert for a tenant or should I do it?” John asked Sherlock while they were both at the living room at the same time. That didn’t happen so often anymore if they were not on a case, because John spent so much time at Sarah’s and Sherlock was either in his room or somewhere with Elisa. 

“There is no need”, Sherlock said.

“You are going to live here alone?” John asked bit surprised. Well the money had never been an issue to Sherlock. He had money John knew, he just didn’t care about it. To him money didn’t exist. And his brother had even more if Sherlock would ever need money for something, but Sherlock would never ask.

“No”, Sherlock said, still reading the newspaper.

“So you already found someone”, John asked.

“Isn’t that obvious?” Sherlock didn’t care about their conversation that much.

“Who? Someone I know? When will he move?” John asked.

“She. Yes. When you move out”. It was just answers to John’s question nothing more.

“She? Did you ask her to move in?” John was a bit surprised. 

“Yes”, Sherlock said. “We know it’s too early, but it’s convenient and we don’t really do things in normal way”.

A bit more than John asked had been answered and John was surprised by the information and didn’t quite know what to say. ”Good. Well. Then. I guess that’s settled then”. 

 

Then John went to kitchen to make tea for himself. Did Sherlock really though that he could live with a woman? With her? They would drive each other mad. Did she really understand how Sherlock was at home? Maybe they just had to give it a go. John had barely been able to live with Sherlock and all his awfulness, could she do it, tolerate it all. John wondered that did Sarah already know, had Elisa talked to Sarah about it or was it so resent decision. Maybe they just wanted to test their relationship’s boundaries? Was it even John’s business to think about it, not really it wasn’t. He told himself to keep his thought in the tea quickly boiling at the stove. He had not really even recently spent that much time at the Baker Street. John couldn’t even remember when he had slept there the last time. When he was there it was about the cases and then she wasn’t there. But John had realised that she was there a lot and was comfortable there. She had one morning walked to their kitchen wearing nothing but a Sherlock’s luckily quite long t-shirt, blushed to all red when she had seen John and returned a moment later also wearing pyjama bottoms, stolen from Sherlock. And that had been weeks ago. 

When the tea was done John put a cup to the table also for Sherlock, who then came for it and sat down. 

“This might be one of the last times we have tea together”, John said, “as flatmates”.

“She makes better tea than you”, Sherlock said.

“Does she? Of course she does.” John wasn’t going to tell Sherlock that for Sherlock’s tea Elisa always but cream instead of milk. She didn’t want him to lose any more weight. Sherlock didn’t look quite so skinny as before, his BMI must be bit more close to average, John realised. Sherlock was still too skinny, but didn’t look sickly skin. She had been good for him, John didn’t know if that went also to other way around or was Sherlock ruining her. She was a sweet cleaver girl. John felt like he could have been her big brother, but Sarah kept her as a friend. At least they had each other when John and Sherlock were on a case. 

“So things are good between you two”, John asked.

“I think they are. We don’t over think things”, Sherlock said.

John found it a bit amusing. “You don’t over think?”

“Maybe not the best way to express it, but you got the point”, Sherlock admitted.

Sherlock had relaxed so much after meeting her. He was a little bit like a different person. Now John was okay with it, but at the beginning when they had just met, John hadn’t really liked her affect over Sherlock. And John had been scared that Sherlock would affect so much to the girl’s life that she would turn to another Sherlock. But the affect they had on each other was balancing, their enhanced each other’s good qualities. 

 

It was a week after and John moved out. Sherlock and Elisa where helping, but as John knew Sherlock was in no way anything called help, but Elisa was doing her best, cleaning with Sarah at their new apartment. 

“Sherlock! John shouted to upstairs from the outdoor, ”If you are going to help or even pretending to help, come downstairs with something”.

Sherlock came downstairs. 

“With something that we are moving”, John said as Sherlock was carrying a tea mug.

Not helping. Right. “Are you going to be useful at all?” John asked.

“I am observing any errors on your moving methods” Sherlock replied.

I might have guessed, John thought. So it was just him carrying all his stuff and then there was everything that Sarah had. It was going to be a really long day or even more. “You would be more helpful if you would carry something”.

“I doubt that, you would benefit much more on these observations next time you will be moving. I am just collecting data”, Sherlock said.

Of course he was, but it was also an excuse. John should have known before he asked Sherlock to help, it wasn’t like Sherlock was ever carrying anything or doing anything if it could be avoided. Tens of times John had got Sherlock’s phone from his pocket or done something as humiliating as that, when they were on a case or Sherlock was thinking. And now he refused to help him move out. Maybe it was helping in his way, John thought as he carried another box to the rental car they had hired for the weekend. John hated driving in London, but there was no way of avoiding that in this weekend.

And by the evening their apartment looked almost liveable. It took few trips to Ikea and other stores to get the furniture they didn’t already have and Sarah wanted new curtains and that sort of things. John liked when Sarah was doing all those things, John loved living with her. He didn’t know anymore why he hadn’t taken the step before. He was ready for all the steps with Sarah.

And on Sunday she was supposed to move to Baker Street, John had offered his and Sarah’s help, but she had said that she didn’t need it, she didn’t have that much stuff. John had never seen her flat but couldn’t really imagine any girl living without at least as much stuff as Sarah had and Sarah wasn’t keen to keeping things. So John was surprised to hear at Sunday evening when Sarah had talked on the phone with Elisa that she had already moved everything and that it was all organised. 

“Apparently they sat on a cap with three suitcases to a one trip and Sherlock had carried them to upstairs”, Sarah told him.

“So literally didn’t have almost anything”, John said.

“Well she has been living really just in the halls and in flats. And travelling away for the summers so it not so big of a surprise. But apparently Sherlock didn’t complain at all when she stole most of his wardrobe space”, Sarah told him. “And Sherlock had tidied the place and moved most of his experiments to upstairs”.

“How could she make him do that? He never tidied anything.” John said.

“It’s not hard to guess”, Sarah said and pulled John close. “I think she might have used a bit of blackmailing on that matter”.

“I couldn’t think that would work to Sherlock”, John said while Sarah ran her fingers in his hair.

“Are you sure you want to talk about Sherlock right now”, Sarah asked.

John absolutely did not.

 

\--

 

When Sherlock asked me, when we talked about it I was sure, but when I talked to Charlie about it she wasn’t taking it so well. Charlie questioned my decision. She said it was too early. It was too early but did it really matter? 

I wondered if Charlie was jealous to me. She didn’t like Sherlock either. I know she didn’t. She barely spoke to him and even then she was often quite mean and Sherlock couldn’t respond as his usual way out of respect to me. I paid it to him every time. I made sure he knew how much I appreciated it, how much I loved him for biting his tongue and keeping his mouth shut. 

On Saturday I packed most of my stuff. It wasn’t really that much. Not after moving every year, leaving for summers. On Sunday morning I finished packing and had breakfast with Charlie on café nearby. 

“I can’t believe that you are actually moving in with him”, she said.

“Why”, the pancakes didn’t taste so good after that question.

“You are getting so serious with him. You barely know him or barely are familiar with London”, she said.

Well she didn’t know how much I knew about him or how much I knew about London. I didn’t even know how many places in London I had been, what I had seen. And all of those places I had seen with him. 

 

I didn’t really have that much stuff. I lived in university dorm room, in furnished shared flats and travelled home for most of the summers during university. So the amount of stuff I had fitted easily for a few bags and they settled in Baker Street so that I couldn’t really tell what was mine. A few more books to the bookshelves at the living room, my clothes to the wardrobe and that was all. Upstairs bedroom became Sherlock’s study he but all most all of his experiments to there. Almost all. I still found a dead mouse from the fridge every now and then but it was almost usable kitchen. And for my surprise Sherlock enjoyed it, my cooking. He even ate a bit more than before. Not so much that he would gain weight, but so that he didn’t look quite so greyish easily. 

The days were alike but still not. He wasn’t bored as often as I thought he would be. I wound every now and then something that could interest him when he was bored and didn’t have any cases or experiments going on. One thing that worked was good usually. Not when I just wanted him not to sulk about but I wanted to work or I had things to do but other times it was good. I spoke him Finnish. Sometimes just about random stuff, sometimes what I thought, I could talk about anything and still after listening a while he would be kissing me. Once I tried with Swedish. I did not work. Not at all. He replied to me. With a terrible accent. Even my Swedish accented sounded more accurate. I never did that again and warned him to not to try to disguise as Swedish.

“Where did you learn that?” I asked, “I didn’t know you could speak Swedish”.

“I just know the basics. I saw a Swedish movie once”, he said.

“Once?”

“Yes.”

“What movie was it if you learned Swedish from that?” I asked.

“I deleted it”, Sherlock said.

“You learned Swedish from it and then deleted it”. I should have guessed. Sherlock always deleted useless information. “What other languages do you speak then?”

“I am not sure. At least five more”, he said.

Of course he did, cleaver man. It would have been way too normal to know what languages do one speak, way too ordinary.

“But you don’t understand my Finnish?” I asked then. I had been a bit careless in my sayings. 

“Not really. Just a words you keep repeating”, Sherlock said.

“Now I have to be more careful what I say”, I said.

“Never hide anything from me”, he begged. It seemed to be really important for him.

“I try not to”, I promised. It was a big promise for someone like him. I trusted him and I think he trust to me, but still he was so unique, so cleaver that still it was hard for me to follow sometimes.

At the same night as we lay in the bed, Sherlock started talking quietly, meaningfully. His attitude changed a little to more serious. He lay in his back and watched the roof. 

“I’m going to tell you something. It might upset you, but I trust you. And you might already know”, Sherlock said.

I waited, not knowing what it was. I could only see part of his face and the dim light coming from the street didn’t help much. 

“When I came to London, after university… I wasn’t quite the same man as I’m now. You would have never wanted to meet me then. I was out of control. I use to do drugs. Cocaine and prescription pills. They made the world quieter. I was more like others. I wanted that. I wanted silence as I couldn’t be what I was. I couldn’t be me.

I nearly died. 

I wanted to.

Lestrade found me. The addict with designer clothes.

I had no background with crime.

He knew my brother.

Lestrade and Mycroft helped. Mycroft sent me to rehabilitation clinic. 

But it wasn’t that what helped. 

I wanted to quit. 

I wanted to feel alive again. Be what I wanted, what I am. But still. I’m an addict. And sometimes I want to everything to be quiet. I still want. And I can’t say I won’t use again. I haven’t but I need to know the stash is still near. That my mind, my brain is more powerful than my addiction. I need to know it.

So it’s still here. My last secret stash. I want to tell you where it is. But you can’t touch it, can’t get rid of it. But if I do use or move it. You will notice. And you need to tell Mycroft. Can you promise that? That you will tell Mycroft?” Sherlock’s voice was like shattering glass. 

I had lied still, watching him with my mind puzzling about it. His confession. It was a big thing.

“I didn’t know.” I said. It was a bit disturbing. I never understood drugs, not really why people used them. But why he had, I could for some reason understand. 

“Can you promise?” Sherlock asked again.

He trusted it to me. “Yes, I will tell to Mycroft.” I said, “But I promise you something else. I will leave then. I will. I will leave you. Without blinking”.

“You should”, Sherlock said. He turned the lights on. He knew what I wanted to do. “You can check my arms. You can do it every day if you want”.

I wasn’t quite okay with it all. I was not definitely okay. He wanted me to be okay. I was scared of him, for him, for the first time. Now I could see he was trouble, at least he had been trouble. I loved my troubled boyfriend. 

I moved my fingers in his inner arms, watched his pale skin. There were no marks, I didn’t expected there to be but I still wanted to see. I kissed his arms. “Never use again”, I begged. “I never want to leave you”. 

He moved his fingers in my hair. “I never want you to leave me”.

“Thank you for telling me about it”, I whispered between kisses to his body. I wanted to make him feel good, to reward him for telling me it. His secret. 

 

It was all going surprisingly well. The things were like he had said in the Christmas party when he didn’t have a case or he wasn’t all concentrated to an experiment. Only thing missing was privacy. It had almost all gone. I wasn’t that okay with it. We had an argument about it. 

“My computer is mine”, I said when once again I found him using it. 

“Mine was all the way upstairs”, he said. Like it explained it all.

“Then go and get it”, I said. “That’s my computer. My one personal thing. It had a password.”

“It wasn’t that difficult to deduce”, Sherlock said still concentrating more to the screen than to me.

“I know that you will know every password that I will use, but that there for the reason for people and you to understand to stay away”, I said with not so happy voice.

“Do you then hide something in it?” Sherlock asked then now looking at me.

“I’m not hiding anything, you would find all. It’s just mine. It’s personal”, I sighed. 

After that time I saw him using it very rarely, only if I had left it open at the living room and even then he had some good reason for it.

He surprisingly respected my need for a bit of privacy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next one should be coming more quickly than this one did. I would love to hear your comments!


	14. Things About Mummy And Letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Has Sherlock been keeping secrets?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have never been to Oxfordshire, so keep that in mind and I have no idea where Sherlock really is from.

Things were absolutely great. And everything was almost perfect. We both could have our on time and space. Sherlock loved when I came back from work every day, he was nearly always waiting with a cup of tea if he wasn’t on a case. That we could just sit at the same living room without saying a word and still feel the connection, was the best thing. I started reading more books than I did before. We rarely bothered to open TV, he disliked it or so he said, but he was loudly commenting on TV shows. He played his violin and I loved to listen while he was playing. 

Sherlock didn’t mention it at all, but things in I had started to change. Items, like some jewellery I wore at work. They didn’t disappear, but they were replaced in the drawer were I kept them. Like the one cheap bird necklace, on one morning I found it next to a something silverfish and new. It was expensive, I could see it. But he never said anything, I never said anything. I wore the necklace and on the next week there was a pair of earrings and the next a new dressing gown. That was too bad, I liked wearing his. But mine was alike except dark red, burgundy almost. The silk was so soft against my skin, as was his touch. Then my normal t-shirts suddenly felt softer and looked all new again. It was because they were. Expensive labels. Designer names. They were almost the same as before. Everything was always simple, but better quality, but I didn’t always notice. 

But Charlie did at the dinner we had. “Now you are like his paid woman”.

I couldn’t believe that she said that. 

I left twenty pounds at the restaurant table to her for my part of the dinner and left. I sat on a bus back to home. I kept thinking of her words. Those vicious words. I was in tears when I got back at Baker Street. I cried and sat on the sofa. Sherlock was bewildered about that, worried, felt with me like nothing before.

I only wanted to wear those things because it pleased him and that made me happy. 

It was hard for Sherlock to deduce why I was crying. He hadn’t seen me crying that many times and it had been always about pain, horror or fear. This was different. I was sad because I lost a friend. I couldn’t be her friend anymore.

“She said something to you, did something”, Sherlock said.

“It doesn’t matter really. It was just a final thing.” I said. I didn’t want him to realise it was because of him. I didn’t blame him, but Charlie did. “We’re are not friends anymore”.

“Sentiment?”

“Something like that”, I couldn’t explain it to him.

 

\--

 

John liked their apartment. Compared to Baker Street it was much lighter, big windows and all. Sherlock found his way there even without John or anyone telling the address. Whilst there Sherlock had had one look and told all the things that were risks, where would a burglar come in, what would fall apart and everything about former residents. After that lecture had Elisa poked Sherlock to his shoulder and then Sherlock had wished them all the luck in their new home. They had even brought a gift. She had bought it of course, but still it mattered. 

Sarah talked with her about the interior design things and John asked Sherlock more about the risks. John liked the place and all the space. Sarah had just had studio and now this one bedroom apartment felt very spacious. Sarah made it home for John. John no longer had nightmares about the fall. It had been over a year ago, over a year. Life was good. When the girls were talking about curtains and Sherlock had taken him to outdoor started Sherlock talking about something else. It took John a moment to gasp that what he talked about.

“They can’t take her again. They will do something else. There have been letters, anonymous letters. I have taken them so that she doesn’t know but I can’t keep it up forever. She will realise that something is going on.”

“What letters”, John asked not quite understanding.

“Threats towards her. I don’t want her to be afraid”, Sherlock said.

“But wouldn’t she better know?” John asked.

“I will protect her”, Sherlock said. 

John didn’t dare to say “like last time”. It would have been too cruel. So he asked, “What will they do?”

“Try to kill her to revenge me”, Sherlock said.

“Have you told Lestrade?” John asked.

“No”

“Your brother?”

“He is always watching after those that matters. But he doesn’t need to know specifics”. Sherlock said.

“So what will you do?” John asked.

“We need to get them to a trap before they notice”, Sherlock said. “But I need to take her away for a while. London is not save place for her. I need to protect her”. 

“What will you do?” John asked, because now it looked like Sherlock had a plan.

“Annoyingly enough I need to ask Mycroft’s help.” Sherlock said like it was poison. “But that’s the only way she won’t realise what’s going on”.

 

\--

 

Mycroft came to visit one time when Sherlock wasn’t at home. I had just got back work and I was a bit tired, Sherlock had been on a case from the day before.

“I worry about him”, Mycroft said. 

I had already asked him to sit down and offered tea. “Like everyone”, I said. It was the second time we met. “He is not for you to use. There is a reason why people dislike you”, I continued. We stared at each other. 

“Don’t play games with me.” He said.

“If I would, I could put up a fight.” And we stared another moment. It was a fight of minds. There were things I could see, things he saw. I had a mask of smile in my face. It didn’t tell a lot to him. I didn’t felt nervous about it. It was just hard to see what he wanted and what he wanted to see in me.

“This is my home now”, I said.

“How is that going”, he asked and sipped his tea.

“Good”, I said and poured some milk to mine.

“There are things you don’t know about him, why I worry”, Mycroft said.

“He is an addict”, I said. I knew what he had mend.

“Not just for adventures and adrenaline”, Mycroft said trying to tell me something I didn’t already know.

“He haven’t been using”, I told to him.

“He might start. He always has a backup stash somewhere hidden”, Mycroft told me.

“If he has decided not to use then he won’t”, I said.

“Would you trust to him that much”, Mycroft asked.

“Yes”.

“Then you know were his stash is”. He said.

“Yes”.

“Then you knew all this”, Mycroft confirmed.

“He told me.” I said.

Mycroft was surprised. “It’s – extraordinary”.

“His favourite word about me”, I said. “Thing are good, he is good, anything else?” I was annoyed about his little surprise visit.

“You haven’t met mummy yet, she would love meeting you”, Mycroft said.

I didn’t say anything, but I couldn’t cover my expression about it quickly enough.

“Oh, you never talked about Mummy. Sherlock should call to her sometimes. She misses her youngest.”

 

When Mycroft left I was exhausted. I had a headache when Sherlock came back. “He was here”, was all he said the moment he opened the flat’s door.

I was laying at couch and waiting if he did come home for the night. “Yes, he gave me a headache. We had a little fight in our heads. And apparently your Mummy misses you”.

“Mummy?” Sherlock repeated what I had just said. 

“That’s what he said.”

“He never believes”, Sherlock said. 

“He said that your Mummy would love to meet me”, I told to him.

“He has told to Mummy about you?”

“How would I know”, I said. “I’m going to sleeping, this headache won’t go away”. When I left to bedroom I saw him texting.

 

At the morning went I woke up, Sherlock was still there asleep. He had never mentioned his Mummy. He had talked about his addiction, his secret stash and everything else, but not about his parents and his childhood. I had talked about my family though he wasn’t that interested. He was only interested about me but he said a few nice words to them in Skype and was all charming. That had been an act, the same role he holds for witness and people he wanted information from, it hadn’t the real him, but he had tried to be polite because I had asked. I sometimes talked to my parents at the phone when he was in the room and then he observed it but it was only because of the language I used. 

Sherlock loved when I spoke Finnish to him in bed. He loved when I said all my thoughts in the language that mend the most to me. I was shy to speak Finnish in front of him.

I made breakfast to him also. He never knew that I put cream instead of whole milk to his tea. I was always worried when he forgot to eat or didn’t eat during a case. Or sleep. I was worried about his welfare just like John. He was so skinny Not quite so skinny, as I had met him, but in the way that his all suits had to be tailored even for his size not only because he only wore expensive clothing. He sat on the table with me and took his tea. “Is the headache gone?”

“Yes. I didn’t want wake you”, I said.

“You didn’t. It was time. I want to ask you something. I want to take to you somewhere.” Sherlock said.

“I have never said no to you”, I said. I had never.

“Would you come, would you meet Mummy?” His voice was a bit uncertain. I had not heard that tone many times.

“When”, was the only question I had for him even though a hundred others where in my mind.

“Tonight. We could stay a night at the cottage”, Sherlock said. “It could be a bit chilly, but I want you to see the place. It’s wonderful at summers”. He was excited when he spoke about the cottage.

“You want me more to see the cottage than you mother”, it wasn’t a question.

“I like it more”, Sherlock said using his it’s so obvious-tone.

I felt like laughing to his answer. No one else would have. It was so typical to him. I knew he cared about his mother, his emotions just put objects and liking them to a higher place than caring about someone whom he didn’t recognise loving.

He smiled. “I wanted to show you the cottage already at the second date we had. I hope you like it. You must. It’s perfect. When I’m old I will live there.”

He could have talked about it for a long time, but then he got a text. “Mycroft is coming to the house as well. He wants to have a family get to together”, Sherlock voice was annoyed. “So no cottage this time. I don’t like staying at the house”.

“You really like that place”, I said with warmth in my voice. 

“It was my escape”, he said simply but didn’t continued about the subject. “I don’t see the importance of this. Mycroft and Mummy are insisting it”.

“When was the last time you saw your mother?” I asked. He looked wondering it. “Normally if you can’t remember the answer right away it’s been too long, but I think you just have deleted it anyway”.

“I think I have”.

“In some level that’s sad”, I said.

“Is it”, I was glad he didn’t ask why I thought it was sad. Even as I was sure he didn’t know why I found it sad.

Sherlock couldn’t understand why I was so nervous about meeting his mother. Sherlock didn’t really talk about her or his childhood. To be honest he had never mention his mother at all. Just before I had finished packing my overnight bag I found something new in there. He had bought me something again. He moved my hair other side of my shoulder and kissed my neck. 

“Thank you”, I said. “What is it this time?”

“You will see”, he replied with a kiss.

 

Just before we left Sherlock send few texts.

“A case?” I asked.

“Something like that”, he said but we left anyway. 

It took couple of hours with car, Oxfordshire, the country side. Of course it had to be close to one of the best university towns. Where else could Sherlock’s ancestors studied. At first he had given the car keys to me, but as I looked a bit uncertain he took them again. “In Finland I’m a good driver, but I have never before drove in wrong side.”

“Your side is wrong”, Sherlock said but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. He was quiet while we were still in London city, but at the outskirts he started to be more lively and talking more relaxed. It was a nice journey. I liked the landscapes that he found boring and he found the speed limitations very restraining, but I was glad that he wasn’t as reckless driver as I had feared for. 

When we arrived we were already waited for. His home was just as I had thought. Like from one of the Inspector Morse series, a proper upper class house belonged to the family for centuries. As Sherlock led the way to the drawing room, where his mother was waiting with tea, I felt a bit scared. I had never been in a so rich family’s house. What if I would break some expensive flower vase? 

Sherlock kissed her mother cheeks in the way they did in Central European way. I shook her hand. “Nice to meet you, Mrs Holmes”, I said.

“Nice to meet you too, my dear. You are the first girl Sherlock has ever brought home”, his mother said. It was a hint that there had been a boy at some point just as I had thought sometimes. Her eyes were very observing and she didn’t look quite her age. She looked younger in a simple dress and cardigan and silk scarf. 

“Mummy”

“Yes dear, I know you are not fond of people but your mother wants to know”, she said. She was nice, polite, chatted about ordinary things. 

I could see why Sherlock disliked his home. She was so alike him, but liked gossips and knowing things about people and was not at all interested about science. Family and money and that sort of things were the only ones that mattered to her and those superficial things Sherlock couldn’t handle. He hated them. He knew his mother’s potential which she refused to use. She asked me question over the tea. They were a proper upper class family. I was nobody. She called me dear, but clearly didn’t like my background. Sherlock just sat quietly most of the time or walked to look out of the window. I was not good enough for her even though she said nothing like that and acted all polite. I could see it. Sherlock knew. It made me sad. I’m not saying that she didn’t like me but I wasn’t perfect enough. 

 

“She speaks three languages”, Sherlock said after her mother started talking about the tea biscuits and I tried to be polite. “She is almost as clever as I but a better person. She makes me better”, Sherlock was frustrated. “She could have the world down on its knees if she wants. Mummy, be fair. Only thing that matters is that I love her”. 

“Sherlock dear—“

“Mummy, she sees the lies behind your words just as I or Mycroft. So don’t”, Sherlock said.

“How would you know what love is, you never loved anyone before, never even cared about anyone”.

“She makes me feel emotions I didn’t even understand before. There is nothing explaining love. It just is there. The love”, Sherlock said. 

Mycroft came to drawing room, “Hello Mummy. Sherlock don’t argue. Nice to see you again Elisa.” Mycroft poured himself tea. “Mummy, believe me when I say this: She is extraordinary. Brain, looks and heart. She is going to get her second promotion within a year in few weeks and is perfect for Sherlock”.

I was startled by his words. Why would he say such a compliments about me to their mother? Was I perfect for him?

“Boys. That is not the way to talk to your mother or about someone in the room”, she said. 

“Well, Mummy you are being as stubborn as usual so I have no choice in the matter”, Mycroft said.

I could feel how distant she was to her boys and how they wanted her attention. She had had them when she was young, very young. She was bitter for some reason. She disliked my youth, that I could see. 

“Sherlock, it is nice that you can confess your love to her like that but I am sure that you would do it more comfortable in private.” She said. Those words were so mean towards Sherlock. It was hard for me to believe that a mother would talk to her son like that.

“I want you to see that I really care for her. She matters to me. More than anyone”, Sherlock said.

“Anyone, anything?” She asked.

“Yes”.

“You have changed then”, she said. Her voice was cold.

“He has”, Mycroft said it also.

I wasn’t sure how I had changed him. I wished it wasn’t too much.

 

“Both of my boys at home! How I have waited this! I simply must call to Harriet. I have so many news. My boys here and Sherlock with a girl. We must have afternoon tea together tomorrow. I will invite some friends and--” Her tone had changed to a lively and chattering one like there hadn’t been that almost bickering conversation just a moment ago.

“Mummy, no”, Sherlock said.

“Just few good old friends?”

“None. And you won’t even call to them. Only after we have left”, Mycroft said. “The government would be in trouble if they had any idea I wasn’t just in their reach. I need a couple of days quiet and peace.”

To me that sounded a bit odd for something coming out of his mouth. Mycroft having a couple of days off work? Everything wasn’t right, I could sense it.

“All right my dear. We will just enjoy each other’s company” Mrs Holmes said. I knew that it didn’t really mean me. 

 

Sherlock took me to see his old room. Upstairs in one of those hallways where I could easily get lost was a dark room. It was clearly just been cleaned throughout. There was no personality in the room. No clutter. Just old pieces of furniture, a desk he must have used as a child. There where burn marks at the table. “You did experiments on that table”, I said.

“I would imagine so. I can’t really remember”, Sherlock said. “I used to stay in here locked up when Mummy had visitors”. He said quietly.

“You were lonely”, I said.

“I could have been. I didn’t really feel it”, he said.

I sat to edge of his old bed. “Why are we here?” I asked. There was a reason, seeing his mother wasn’t the real reason. I couldn’t no longer keep up the play of pretending, that I didn’t feel that the things were wrong. 

“I am sorry”, Sherlock said. He didn’t try to hide the truth anymore.

“Are you sorry that I saw that it wasn’t the real reason or are you sorry for hiding the truth from me?” I asked. I couldn’t be sure. Neither was he so he didn’t say anything to it.

“I needed to get you out of London”, Sherlock said.

“Why?” I asked. “Mycroft knows why, doesn’t he?”

“He does. It is for your own safety”, Sherlock said and looked out of the window. His hands hold the chair under his old desk. “This was the only thing I thought you might believe to be the real reason. But you are too clever. I wish you weren’t so clever”.

“You just aren’t that sort of person who would take anyone to see you mother”, I said. I also knew that we wouldn’t be together if I wasn’t that cleaver, but I was nothing compared to him. 

“I guess I’m not.”

“And you don’t want to be here. That’s why you haven’t visited for so long time”, I said. That was the truth but so sad at the same time. He spent less much less time at home than I did and I was the one living abroad. “Why couldn’t we stay in London? Why am I not safe there”, I asked again, I wanted more for an answer.

“There are just too many strangers, too hard to observe. Here everyone knows everyone. Are you sure you want you know why?” Sherlock asked.

“Is it something to do with the Russians?” I asked but knew the answer. “They are coming after me”.

Sherlock walked anxiously around the room. “It’s much easier to catch them here when they make their move”. Sherlock used the word “when” not “if”. 

Couldn’t some of things be just be normal? I noticed that I had been running my fingers around my healed wrist. Sherlock had noticed it too and kneeled in front of me and wrapped his fingers around my wrists. “Nothing is going to happen to you. I will keep you save”, he looked to my eyes and tried to reassure me about it. But if something was going to happen, then it would just happen. No way to change that. He wanted me to trust in him to keep me safe. But it was more that he wanted himself to trust in him to keep me safe. 

“Why haven’t you talked to me about it earlier?” I asked when he rose up from in front of me. 

“I wanted to protect you. I didn’t want you to be scared”, he said. 

“I can’t have you hiding things from me”, I said. My voice sounded angry. I didn’t felt scared. “I need to know things. Tell Mycroft to go back to saving world from more wars. There is no point of pretending”.

Sherlock observed me. “You are not scared.”

“Annoyed more likely. Mad to you. Not really thinking about it.” They were tiny sentences I could say. “You should have told me. When and how do you know they are after me?”

“You really are angry.”  
“And disappointed. Sherlock, I need to know. You can’t hide this from me”, I said. There was abger in my voice.

“It’s for your own good”, Sherlock said.

I wanted to scream to him, but I would have just been too embarrassed to do it in here. “I doubt it. I need to go to a walk. Alone”, I said angrily. That was the only way I could get rid of my foul mood. 

“It’s going to be dark soon”, Sherlock said, like I didn’t know. 

“I’m not scared of the monster in shadows”, I said, my voice wasn’t mine. This was one of the few times I was really furious to him. 

“You should be”, he said. 

I took my coat and walked to the room’s door. “I changed my mind. You are coming too. Move on. I can’t yell to you at you home”.

“No one would care”, Sherlock said like it was something he wanted. He was crazy.

“Someone would hear”, I said.

 

We walked in silence for a while. It really was getting darker and the wind was quite strong. I felt a bit cold but I had no intention of returning back inside before he would talk. So we walked in silence as I felt bit better, not so annoyed as before as I had a moment to calm down but then I started to speak about it. 

“I have a right to know”, I said. “You are not protecting me by not telling”. 

“I’m scared for you.” Sherlock said then suddenly. “Of losing you”. His voice almost broke. 

“I have no intention of going anywhere. I am not going to leave you”, I said and tried to calm him. 

“It’s nothing you can do about. And in some day you will leave me when you realise what I really am”, Sherlock said.

“And still I am here telling you I won’t go away. I refuse to leave. One day you might ask that though”, I said.

He looked painful like he knew something. He thought that someday I would leave him. He expected something bad. Something he couldn’t handle. I could yell to him about his behaviour anymore, but I needed to know.

“Do you have a real plan? How long do we have to stay here?”

“Don’t you like it here?” He asked. “A couple days, they will find out soon, my sources will tell to them where we are”.

How could I tell him that it was so awkward being here? I was so outplaced. This wasn’t an easy environment to me. He could be comfortable anywhere, but I wasn’t used to such of luxuries and to an old manor house. Servants, staff or however they should be called made me feel uncomfortable. I belonged to their side. I wasn’t from a rich family, I was average as it could get. I had student loans that I paid, not my family. I had no trust funds. My mother and father lived in a semidetached house in near my hometown not in a bloody estate. They had no loans left but they were retiring in few years, they were financially ok, but not rich in any terms. This wasn’t something I had used to and never would be.

“It’s so different”, I said then without finding any other words.

“Don’t be like that, you are doing fine. This is not the life style I have wanted and it will never be mine.” Sherlock said.

“But it’s not like you ever needed a flatmate in financial way”, I said the obvious.

“I didn’t. But still I needed one. And now I want you. Just you. Why are you only seeing the differences in our lives, there is more in common, look at those things not the ones separating us!” Sherlock wasn’t patient about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now working on the next chapter, there is going to be more action...


	15. The Village’s Pub

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> About bees and a question which only raises more questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright here is a new chapter. Nothing terribly exciting I guess but things about past of Sherlock.

It doesn’t matter”, I tried to say. 

“It does to you, don’t lie”, he said.

“I’m trying to get pass it. This is just… I never believed this kind of life was real”, I pointed toward the manor. “It’s like from some BBC movie or Austen novel”.

“Twisted Austen novel where your whole family is even crazier than the Bennet’s”, Sherlock said.

“You have read the bride and prejudge?”

“Of course”. Like it was so obvious.

“What, how, when”, was all I managed.

“Mummy made me read it.” 

I laughed more freely than in whole day. Of course he had read it, I was so going to tease him about it. 

“Mummy said it would teach me about feelings”.

I stopped laughing. “That’s so sweet”.

“But I never understood love, not before meeting you”.

And all of our argument was gone and I was pressing my head against his chest. “Let’s go inside, it’s cold”. 

“You are from north you shouldn’t feel the cold”, Sherlock said and laugh a little.

“I was here for the winter so I’m getting used to and it’s more about the wind”, I said.

“You like going home?” Sherlock asked.

“I guess I like visiting my family. It’s nice to see my parents and all. I sometimes miss my friends in there, back at home”, I said.

“Why they don’t visit you?”

“They did sometime at holidays back at university. They are, we all are busy, we e-mail”, I said, but it was just an excuse, we weren’t at touch as much as we used to be. My life wasn’t in Finland anymore.

“I’m sorry I made this, coming here an excuse”, Sherlock said. He knew this had been more meaningful for me than to him. 

“Does your mother know why we really are here”, I asked.  
“She suspects”, Sherlock said.

“Does she deserve the truth or is it too much”, I asked.

“You are saying that it really was wrong to try to hide the real reason to coming here”, Sherlock said.

“Have you found you conscience again?” I asked.

“Without you I wouldn’t feel it at all”, Sherlock said. 

 

So we were there at middle of dinner dining at the dining room which was meant only for small gatherings. Mycroft had already left now that the truth was out. The dinner was much more quieter. I sat very close to Sherlock. He didn’t want to eat, but I made him eat with one sad look.

“Sherlock, you have gained weight. You look better now. I trust it’s something you have affected”, his mother said to me, Violet, as she had insisted me calling her.

“We are going to the pub after dinner”, Sherlock told her. 

“Are you still sure I can’t invite some people from the city over tomorrow just for tea?” Violet asked from her son.

“Just for tea. It’s so tedious. I hate mingling”, Sherlock said then.

“Sherlock dear, they are my friends and it’s not like you have brought anyone home after university”, Violet said. Again a hint to that mystery boy I knew nothing about.

“She isn’t same new fancy toy for you to show off to your so called friends”, Sherlock said annoyingly. He hated being here.

“Well, you most certainly don’t need to be there. It could be just teatime with us girls. A little gossip and all that you hate”, Violet said. 

“It’s not my decision”, Sherlock said and looked at me. I was scared of the idea of being alone with his mother and her friends. I would be so outsider. I tried to look Sherlock in a way that he would know that I didn’t want to be left alone, but I could give him that face because his mother would have seen it.

“You could go to the bee hives”, Violet said to Sherlock and I could see that in Sherlock’s head that idea decided it. I would be alone. But I was going to have my revenge I would torture him for that decision tonight. Oh, I would make him suffer. I smiled in my head to the idea and I saw him looking at me with a curious eyes. Oh, he knew exactly what I was going to do to him. 

 

After dinner I went to get my purse and waited for Sherlock in the hallway. I could hear his mother talking at the phone in a room nearby. Sherlock had disappeared to somewhere in the manor. I didn’t know my way in there so there was no point of trying to find him. I heard her phone calls at least parts of them. I hated it. 

“She is just so sweet girl but doesn’t always seem to know when to say please and sir and address people on their titles, but I supposed that just because she isn’t used to that.   
Oh, no, no. She is just not from here. Scandinavian. Yes, those whom normally have blond hair and blue eyes. No, she’s ordinary. You will see then, until afternoon!”

“I thought so too! Nothing, nothing at all before dear Mycroft mentioned her last month. And they are even living together! Yes! I really thought that he was, you know, for the other way, but no. But Sherlock has always been so special. Wait until you meet her. She is so sweet, so ordinary. So like him in some ways, cleverer than average. She is so innocent lovely girl. “

“Oh, yes. The way they look at each other and the way Sherlock speak about her. He has never expressed his feelings like that. I would expect that in the future. Yes, I am very excited. She will be a funny little sweet thing. A girl more than a woman. Yes she is younger, but according to my dear Mycroft very good at her job. I think it is something to do with insurances. Until tomorrow then!”

 

I was so relieved when Sherlock returned and we started walking to the pub. 

“Do you know that all of your mother’s friends and you mother thought that you were gay?” I asked. I wanted to ask what the truth about that was.

“I have never talked to her about anyone. I…Her assumptions might come from the fact that at first year of university I… I was there a year younger than others… I brought someone with me to christmas holiday. He was really just a friend, nothing meaningful, but people thought things and we surely didn’t make them think otherwise.”

“But you have—“

“You wish to discuss about this right now?” Sherlock asked.

“I’m just curious, why me”, I said.

“It’s more about the person, not gender”, he said then rather quietly.

“I wish I could think like that more, but I’m too shallow”, I said. His words made me think that he appreciated me more than he should. I wasn’t perfect.

“So you only like the way I look”, Sherlock asked as a joke. 

“Oh, yes. I can’t really stand you. You are just easy to eyes. Well, not easy, a pleasure”, I said and kissed him.

“And I thought that you had real feelings”, he didn’t often joke like that or at all, but for once it was nice. He really was in a cheerful mood all of suddenly.

 

When we got there, there were surprisingly many people at the small village pub when we got there. I had never actually been in a one of those places that were famous from murder mysteries like Midsomer Murders. I had been a pub in the city but that wasn’t the same thing. It was different and this was a place were probably everyone knew who Sherlock was and only thing that mattered about him was his mother and not his work. Here he was almost normal, the villages boy.

So we went in and Sherlock went to get us drinks and I sat in a nice armchair near a window. I noticed people were staring at me, but little bit less Sherlock but nobody came to say anything before he was back and I had had a sip of my glass of white wine. 

“Well isn’t it Sherlock”, some older men came and talked to him. Of course they recognised him, who wouldn’t. 

“It’s been a long time, Mr Crowell”, Sherlock greeted the man. “How are your bees?”

“Still buzzing, still buzzing”.

Sherlock introduced me.

“You know, younger Sherlock was really enthusiastic about bees and looked after my hives summers off school”, Mr Crowell told to me.

“I didn’t know you liked bees”, I said to Sherlock.

“You must come and see the hives as you’re here after so long time”, Mr Crowell said to Sherlock.

“I will try to make it”, Sherlock said. 

After Mr Crowell came another man and his wife and soon we were the centre of attention. hey wanted to know about me, gave me another glass of wine. I was careful about what I sad but I was honest. They were curious about Sherlock’s life. “My daughter tells me what the doctor writes to the net. About what they do.” They had read and heard the stories.

I went to the toilet and the way back to the table a woman, around Sherlock’s age, stopped me. She was drunk. ”Are you really telling that he isn’t gay? That you two are together?” Her tone was accusing. 

“It’s not your business, but yes we are together”, I said and tried to continue to the table but she just stand in front of me.

“A girl like you! What can he see in someone like you? Clearly he is just after as young ones as he can get”, she was trying to cause me to really get nervous.

“Your failed marriage is lousy excuse to drink for the fourth night a roll. Your children are waiting for you. Go home and sober up you head”, said as calmly as I could.

“What are you telling me? You are a freak just like him”, she was screaming to me.

I walked away all she wanted was a fight.

“So you are a freak! A prat telling peoples personal shit around! You’re nothing special, just a young fuck!”

At least the half of the pub heard that. I heard people getting her out. I tried not to show how upset I really was. I sat next to Sherlock and felt sad and miserable by that woman’s words. Sherlock wrapped his arm around my shoulder for a moment and kept me close. He was there and cared, really cared how I felt.

“Don’t care about Vicky”, a woman said to me. “She’s just struggling”: 

“Well surely you don’t care. Sherlock just told me that you are as bright as he is”, Mrs Crowell said.

“He is telling you a lie I’m not as nearly as good as he is”, I said. 

“But you are so good”, Sherlock said and the look in his eyes made it clear to everyone what he really felt towards me.

“You haven’t been here for years. We were all shocked by the stunt you pulled back then”, one of the villagers said.

“Well, it’s all pass”; Sherlock tried to let the subject go.

“Why did you come back now”, the same man asked.

“Don’t pry Oscar”, Mrs Crowell said.

“Well, I wanted Elisa to meet my mother”, Sherlock said.

I could see a certain look in the villager’s faces. I wasn’t sure what it meant but the reason had just been excuse and I knew it so the looks didn’t matter.

 

A little by little the villagers left us alone until there was only those whom seemed to meant the most for Sherlock. Sherlock went to bar counter with Mrs Crowell and I stayed talking to Mrs Crowell. 

“He is really fond of you”, she said.

“I know...”

“He hasn’t brought anyone home after, well…At all”, she continued.

“I have heard that”, I said.

“We are really protective about him here, you know. His mother is important influencer at the city and here in village he is our own boy”, Mrs Crowell continued.

“I have tried to take good care of him”, I said bit worryingly. 

“He isn’t just brains. He has a heart that bigger than anyone can see, it’s just hidden and it’s more fragile than you could think”, she said.

“He says I’m making him feel more, but I just think that he is showing and recognising his feeling more openly”, I said. 

“So you have been good to him”, Mrs Crowell said and smiled.

“And he is to me”, I said.

“Try to avoid those adventures of his”, she asked for me to.

“I have tried”.

“Oh, so something has happened”, she noticed my tone.

“It was just after we met, but it’s all good now. I don’t care about all adventures and that. John is there to keep an eye on him when they work”, I said. 

“It’s good that he is not alone”, she said. I wasn’t sure did she mean me or John, but I was glad that John was a really good friend to him.

“Your son managed to ask that red head out almost got a yes to answer, but she’s not sure what your son really wants”, I said to Mrs Crowell trying to change the subject of our conversation little. I had been observing people at the pub after I had relaxed a bit about being there in middle of attention.

“So you do what he does”, Mrs Crowell said as I hadn’t quite managed changing the way of our discussion as I hoped.

“Just a bit, just ordinary things. More about emotions than he can see them, about social behaviour. I always spot a liar.” I told her.

“Then you really are good for each other”, she said.

“I hope so”.

“He does anyway. Has he asked already?” Mrs Crowell said.

“Asked what?” I couldn’t quite understand.

“The question?”

“What?” Asked, “Oh, oh. No we have barely been together for… Well no. Not long enough”, I say as bit shocked. 

“He seems to know what he wants”, Mrs Crowell said and smiled.

I went all quiet. It had been those both meanings that this place had. Well three really. He was playing this game for both ways and keeping me in the dark for a while. He was waiting for a spot. A moment. He really was. I could see it. I needed air. Space. Fresh air. That was something this countryside should really have at least. 

But it was raining more heavily than before and I had to stand at the small porch covered by roof just next to pub’s entrance. I could still hear the sounds from indoors, but the sounds of the rain hitting cars at the car park and water drizzling down from the roof was calming. 

He was not going to ask. We weren’t, he wasn’t that sort of person, not he marrying type. I was just there for him but he was married to his work. He had no reason to do that. Not really. So I stood there cooling of, getting rid of the dangerous idea that Mrs Crowell had said. It wasn’t true. 

 

It was nice to be alone for a moment. I loved him, there was no question of that, but I needed space and air. I had seen many things at the pub. About his past, his lonely childhood, about the village. I didn’t know how to speak or what to think about them. But it was nice seeing something of his past beyond his coming to London time, how he had been as a child. His teen years had changed him. 

Then Sherlock came out of the pub. “So you needed some quiet time?” He asked.

“Yes. It was…”

“I really wanted to talk to you. Ask something”, he started to say. 

“Please—“, I started to say when we heard a loud bang. Almost felt it. A gunshot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, I would just love to hear your thoughts! I'm really shy and uncertain about my writing and sharing this in here AO3 is a big step for me. No one has really ever read what I have writen so I just basically write for myself about what I want to read about. And I'm nowhere perfect in English, not nearly as good as I hope I would be. But I enjoy writing this and I hope that you stranger somewhere there are enjoying reading this.
> 
> Right now I'm writing the next chapter and it's a difficult one for me to write mostly because I have written the chapter after that and most of the last chapters.


	16. The Night, Morning And Afternoon Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened after the gunshot? What's the plan? Will Sherlock be able to save her?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that this has taken so long to update. I have been really busy with university and I admit that I quite wrote myself into trouble with this chapter, but seems like I managed to survive. The next chapter should be here a bit more quickly than this was.

It went near. I could feel it. Sherlock bulled me back inside of the pub so quickly. I was shivering. We stood next to wall. He was holding me from shoulders. People in the pub had heard the shot too. “Someone just hunting nearby”.

There wasn’t anyone hunting. 

I knew it.

Sherlock knew it.

“It was just a warning”, Sherlock said. He quickly observed the pub with his gaze one more time and then looked at me. His hands were still on my shoulders. “I will not let anything to happen to you. Do you understand that?”

He was looking to my eyes with serious face. He wanted me to believe it. I needed to believe it. But it was hard, I was afraid. I remembered the fear, the pain. But it must be easier, die by shooting. It should be so much quicker. A fast death, not so much pain. I didn’t want to die, I didn’t want suffer.

“We are save here. I know what’s coming. Trust me”, Sherlock said.

I could barely nod.

“Are you ready to go back there? We should. It’s all going to be fine”, he said.

Another nod. Sherlock took my hand and I just followed him to the bar counter. I stared at the windows not seeing anything. He ordered something and made me drink it. It was whiskey. I hated it. It was so strong. Burned at my throat. But it blurred my fear a little and I knew that was what he wanted. “Stay here a moment, I’ll go and talk to the pub’s owner”, he asked so I stayed there.

I could be alone for a moment. I could manage it. But I was shivering still and it wasn’t because of cold. I hated that I wasn’t as brave as he was. I watched when the owner handed him something while they talked. 

“They are closing soon, but we are staying upstairs”, Sherlock said while he was texting. “It will be all over soon”, he promised to me. “We’ll have a room upstairs. It’ll be quiet there.”

“Is it wise—" I yawned in mid-sentence “to stay here?” I had started to feel so tired. 

“That’s the plan”, Sherlock said.

So I followed him upstairs. There in one of the small rooms I sat down to a bed while he walked on the small space of the room. “I have considered all the possibilities. All the factors”, he was talking to himself and sends another text. 

“What will happen”, I asked. I hated that the long day had made me so tired. So much had happen. So much was going to happen and I was exhausted. 

“They will come in”, Sherlock said.

“When”, I asked.

“After closing time. Try to sleep some. It won’t be for many hours”, he said.

“But you are not sure”, I could see that.

“All the possibilities point to that direction. It’s the only rational solution”, he said.

“Are you sure they act rationally”, I asked.

“It’s the only thing they can do”, then he looked at me and said “Lie down. Try to sleep some. We will hear them. You will be safe.” 

How could he think that I would sleep? 

“I’m not tired”, I said.

Sherlock went downstairs and returned with a glass. “Drink it”, he asked.

“Why are you making me to drink?” I asked. I didn’t want to.

“It’s helps with your fear and makes you easier to sleep”, Sherlock said.

“But it’s not wise to get be dunk”, I said.

“You won’t be”, he promised.

“I am”, I felt I had already had too many. 

“You are still scared”, I told me like it was surprise to him.

“Of course I am”, I said.

“I don’t understand, it’s not rational”, he said and sad to edge of the bed next to me. “What if we would just talk?”

“Okay”, I said little reluctantly.  
“What makes you feel safe?” Sherlock asked. He really was wondering it, the look in his eyes told me that. 

I thought about it. “Warmth. Closeness. You. Connection. That I know what’s going to happen. I don’t like surprises. Familiar things.“ I yawned again hand covering my mouth, I was so tired. “Familiar smells and other little things.”

I rested my head on the pillow, my head was so heavy. “You didn’t really drink anything tonight. You were pretending”, I said to Sherlock. I just realised it. He was sober, I wasn’t. He had planned it.

“I had a sip or two”, he said.

“So every time you bought drinks to us you made me drink them both?”

“Most of the”, he admitted. 

“I’m going to have hangover in the morning”, I blamed him. I was so tired.

“That’s inevitable”, Sherlock said. 

“It’s not fair to make your girlfriend drink more than she thinks and can handle. Candle. Mantle…” There was a reason. “You are evil. Tomorrow I’m supposed to hold a happy face around your mother’s friends”.

“Just sleep. I know you are tired”, Sherlock said.

I yawned again. I was so tired and I didn’t want to sleep. I struggled to keep my eyes open. “You drugged my drinks. I’m so angry with you”, was the last thing I remember saying. He had drugged the last to drinks.

“I’m sorry” echoed in my mind. His voice blurred to emptiness. To darkness. Soft darkness.

 

\--

 

It had been a long night for John. He felt the coldness in his bones. His shoulder ache. First it just been damp ground, grey weather, not it was raining with full plaster. He was soaked in water. Most of his days in army he had spent in much warmer places and being in stake out in that pouring rain wasn’t something he enjoyed but he did it for Sherlock, for her.

John didn’t really like Sherlock’s plan. Or the bits he had revealed to him. Mycroft was part of it, but mostly it was John handling the so called heavy lifting. So that’s why John was there ate the edge of the forest, in rain, glancing towards the cosy pub where Sherlock and the girl had spent at least an hour already.

She was completely unaware of this plot. There had of course been a cover story. One that she would find out but this one was there to keep her safe and to catch the Russian assassin. That would be enough to make them see that she was out of their reach forever. She had been from the point Sherlock fell in love with her. The wretched weather made John so crumby. He would so much preferred sitting by a fire in a warm cosy pub or in their London home eating dinner he had cooked together with Sarah. 

John hated the waiting. He was a man of action. He could be calm and cool in both situations but he preferred action, combat, and the rush of adrenaline. But there he was and waited. They had chosen this location for a reason.

Mycroft’s men were handling it from distance. There was also a few his men at the scene but John was the best trained one for combat situations. He had that sort of sniper background as Mycroft’s men were more used to straightforward attacks and captures. John knew how to be subtle, act in a way no one would notice.

 

Then John noticed that she came out of the pub and that made him alert. That wasn’t part of the plan. Sherlock shouldn’t let her come outside. Mycroft’s men noticed it too and started to observe more closely for the sniper John had seen already settled to his place a bit far for his gun to reach to its target in a hoped way. But there was still a change. There was always a change to take the things in to bad direction. Why was she outside of the pub alone?

She stood there a moment. John couldn’t clearly see her face without binoculars, but she looked like she just needed a moment for herself. It was really raining heavily. It made everything blur and grey. John observed the assassin hiding on the other side of the car park. He didn’t have a clear ankle for a shoot, but John could see that he was going to try. That made him nervous. Blood rushed in his ears but still he could clearly hear when the pub’s door was opened again and Sherlock step outside. That was better. It was better until John heard the shot. It went past her in long way. The assassin really had no sniper skills. It was lucky.

She was scared in an instance. And how Sherlock acted was incredible. They were safe and the plan was back in action. She was safe again for a moment. Back inside of the pub and the plan could continue. There was nothing John or Mycroft’s men could do before the assassin was inside of the pub or at least nearby, so that it was absolutely clear he was going to act and her life was in immediate danger. And that was the devious plan, the only way to all of them to get the punishment they deserved according to the law. But that wasn’t something Sherlock really cared about, he wanted to punish them, but when John was involved he wanted to act according to the law as often as it was possible. And Mycroft, well he was above the law, he was the law as the way John saw him. So they just waited for the pub to close and the villagers to leave and then it would be all action.

The plan was simple. They were just waiting for the assassin to move. When he would go inside they would follow, catch him and no one would be harmed. And his capture would affect to the Russian mafia and they would realise to leave her and Sherlock alone. That was the plan.

 

It was almost closing time. John got a text from Sherlock. They were moving to upstairs, he had given her the first part of the medication. The agreement was that Sherlock kept him aware of everything that was going on inside and especially with the drugs. Mycroft’s team was also informed but just about their movements. This was the part, few deep breaths before the action, feeling of the thrill already at the air. John could see the assassin taking his moves. He was moving towards the pub as the locals were leaving. A dark figure in that weather paid no attention. The night was perfect for the assassin’s point of view. John didn’t like it at all, it made observing his movements from distance difficult. But it was past the point where John paid any attention to the weather. This was his solder mode, his battlefield calmness. He was ready to act. 

Locals where still leaving when John saw the assassin creeping towards the others side of the pub. They had no visual there. That was bad. Not expected. He was around the corner to the others side and John started running on the edge of the forest. He still didn’t want to lose his cover. At the same time he managed to push the alarm button to warn Sherlock that the assassin was really coming now. 

John’s movements where slow in because of the underbrush and the fact that he still wasn’t ready to blow his cover. So John was almost at the building when he saw Sherlock at the front door. He was carrying her.

Why did she look so relaxed? Oh, she was really out, John realised, when he observed Sherlock carrying her to the car that had been waiting. 

John had not really approved that part of the plan but then Sherlock would just have used other, illegal, resources. So getting the drug from John had been the best option. Sarah would be so mad to John if she would find out, but it was all for the best. John had tried to insist that she really didn’t need to sedated, just something to calm her nerves would have been enough, but Sherlock had been as stubborn as always. It was a dangerous game and John didn’t like it at all. It was against of his professionalism. He had seen her afraid and John believed that she could handle it. The fear wouldn’t take over her. 

Now there was only the part of the catch the assassin inside the building. And from John’s mark Mycroft’s men went inside after him. 

 

Now it was dark inside. The assassin had cut the power from the whole building. He still must have thought that the girl was in the building. John entered quietly from the same window the assassin had used and observed his surroundings calmly. He had come in from the pub’s staff room window.   
There was no longer any real danger for other people or so John thought until he heard and saw that there where guest staying at the pub, who now came to downstairs to wonder the power cut. And the situation wasn’t secure anymore. And then John felt the vibration of his phone. 

“Had to return. There are two. SH”

John was hiding in the shadows by the stairway as few guests got down. The second assassin was a mystery and where were Sherlock and the girl. Everything had changed. Nothing was going as planned. The pub’s upstairs rooms were supposed to be empty as well, no guest were supposed to stay. John couldn’t risk of texting to Sherlock. Light of his phone would have given him away. It had been less than five minutes since he had seen Sherlock carrying her away and they had come back. Things weren’t good, not at all. 

John assumed that the assassin was now rating the rooms up so we quietly followed. That was also where he thought Sherlock might be. Mycroft’s men scattered around the pub. John was going alone up. He tried to step to the stairs as quietly and steadily as he could but still keep a good pace. The capture needed to be a surprise. they didn’t want to cause a gunfight. That one shot outdoors had already been too much disturbing of the tranquillity of the village and Mycroft. 

Upstairs opened up to two different directions heading towards both ends of the building, John could see the other end of the hallway, but the other ended around the corner. There was no way of seeing there. If he stepped to the hallway he would be exposed. John listened. He heard the guests at downstairs probably some of the Mycroft’s men had went to help them with the electronics, it would be easier with the power back on. 

In the hallway there were five rooms and few closets. Two room at the side of the stairs on sides, one room directly opposite of the stairs and two rooms, one each side of it. John heard a woman talking in the room opposite of the stairs, so that was out of the question. Sherlock would have never chosen the one on John’s right side next to stairs. And that he knew just because the room looked so small and it had a shared bathroom with the one opposite of it. That left two rooms on the left side of the stairs and that whatever was behind that corner. 

John had his gun out. It was a new one, which Mycroft had given to him. It was in no way linked to John. Then the power came back. Lights slowly switching on, at the old building, air-condition slowly starting to roll. One of the rooms at least had the on. People started to return to towards the stairs, John hid his gun and tried to look like he belonged there, but at the same time he observed those who returned to their rooms. It was two men and a woman in her fifties who though she looked better than she did. Two of them when to rooms on the right side, but the woman walked to the corner room on left, barely shut the door and John was sure that it was there room where the assassin was. It wasn’t a loud sound but John recognised a gunshot shot with a silencer on. He was right. Going to the room alone would be a mistake. Now he knew where the other was, only the first one to find. 

With the lights back on John risked to quickly text to Sherlock the location of the other assassin. He got no response. He instead contacted to Mycroft’s men. John wasn’t playing with his life anymore but still the upstairs hallway pulled him towards. He had a feeling, a hunch that there was something in there, something more. 

So slowly John began to move on the hallway. He listened behind the first door on his left. Nothing. Not a sound. The next one was where the assassin was, but after that was the corner. 

John held his gun and was ready to aim and shoot. But it was just after that corner where he was. John was right. Sherlock saw him. He was holding her in his arms like a sleeping child. John put a finger to his lips and pointed to room next door. Sherlock nodded. 

John retuned to downstairs and began to hunt for the second assassin. His identity was a mystery. At downstairs all the lights where still turned on. Just after stairs to the right near the corner where John had been hiding earlier was a little hallway to a small breakfast room. There was some one, a young woman, standing quite close to windows. 

Then John realised. All the upstairs rooms already had residents. She didn’t belong here. As sweet as she looked, she wasn’t just getting a glass of water from there. That was the answer.

“New to job, are you”, John asked.

“Not really”, the young woman said. She was trying to get away. She had a slight eastern accent. 

“It’s pointless to try to escape”, John said, “You are surrounded.”

“All I see is you. An old man”, she said smirking. 

“Thanks”

“You still got few years, if I don’t kill you”, she said and took a step towards to windows. 

“Not a wise move”, John said.

“You won’t shoot me”, she said. She wasn’t convinced about the gun John was holding.

“Why is that?”

“You’ve never killed a woman”, she said and took a leap to get away from the window. John fired the gun. It hit where he aimed. She was holding her leg on the floor. 

“Not a wise move, I said”, John said.

“Bastard!”

From upstairs John heard, “Suspect down!”

It was all over.

 

-

 

My head hurt. Light leaped under my eyelashes. I pulled my eyes closer, held my hand over my eyes.

“You are finally awake”, the voice it was his voice.

I felt sick. I remembered him giving me too much to drink last night. I didn’t remember getting home. I almost asked. Then it game back. All the things. And my anger. 

“You. Idiot”.

“So you feel good enough to speak. I would advise to get up and ready, you only got two hours before Mummy wants you to meet her friends.” Sherlock said.

“I hate you”. The pulsing headache was too much.

“No you don’t”, Sherlock said. I could hear the smile in his voice. “I’ve got coffee to you in a moment. Go and have a shower”.

“You think, that I can manage to get up”, I asked still with closed eyes.

It wasn’t really a question, so a opened my eyes little by little and raised myself to more sitting position. Sherlock looked really tired. It wasn’t just the lack of sleep. It was the same look he had just after a case, tiredness, which came when the adrenaline had worn off. 

“You made me drink last night more than I wanted”, I said.

He nodded a little. He had had a purpose. 

“You drugged my last drinks”.

“It was for your best.” He said.

“And you are not even sorry.”

“No.”

“It’s not acceptable”, I said. “I’m angry to you for it.”

“Understandable.”

“Are going to tell me what happened?” I asked.

“At breakfast”.

“Just coffee”, I said and went to shower. Even the walking there was an effort. I hated hangover. I hated the feeling sick.

After the first two cups of coffee I could listen to him and started to feel more like human again. And after all that he told me all I could tell him was, “We are going to talk about this back in London. Seriously”.

 

After the two hours Sherlock left me to his mother’s company and fleet to bee hives. And for the afternoon I tolerated conversations which made me uncomfortable, drank too much tea and smiled politely to strangers. Violet pretend to like me more than she did. At least she had accepted to pretend accepting me in that way. I think it was more to do with the fact that finally one of her son’s had someone. Someone she could show off to her friends. And that what I was an object at a show. Everybody was touching me, glaring at me, asking uncomfortable questions and still acted all nice on surface.

 

“So you two are getting engaged, planning wedding and all that”, one of Violet’s friend was talking. 

“No, we aren’t like that”, I said.

“I’m sure that it would make Violet very happy. Little grandchildren running around”, she continued.

“We are not really—“, I started to say.

“Don’t you think children are so precious? I couldn’t be more joyful about my son’s children. And their family is growing. Lisa is expecting her third one”.

It sounded like Lisa was the second wife and there were children from the previous marriage also. I felt so awkward. I didn’t know what to say. I tried to be polite and they must have thought that I was a bit stupid or slow or didn’t really gasp the meaning of English. But they also thought that I was odd enough for Violet’s odd younger son that tall and skinny one, who had only had boyfriends before. They asked a lot about my work, education and my parents. There were a lot of private questions for me to answer. I wasn’t comfortable at all. I would make Sherlock suffer when we would be back at London. 

Violet came to rescue me from her friends company. “They are so young couple, but you know my dear youngest. He is determined when he decides something”.

Another Violet’s friend pulled me away from them to chat to me, but I still could hear what Violet spoke even though she didn’t know I could hear her. “But they are living together. And I think Sherlock is about to pop the question”.

Why did everyone though so? He was not that traditional and I wouldn’t say yes, at least not yet. And he knew that, must knew, if he was going to ask that question. We had no reasons to change what we had. We had already taken huge steps too soon and now we were happy where we were. 

After almost three agonizing hours of tea and nosey questions it was over. There was just me and Violet. It was hard for me to smile anymore.  
“You did well”, she said. “We’ll make you to a good wife for a Holmes one day”.

Those were not words I wanted to hear. Soon Sherlock came back and looked still tired, he had not slept on the night at all. We left back to London and I drove and he slept throughout the journey on the front seat and woke only when we were turning to Baker Street and I sighed on relief of surviving from the driving. On that night we had a serious talk about what had happened there and how he had behaved, but after that things started to get better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really appreciate people reading this, it's not easy for me to publish anything I have written. And the next chapter, all I'm going to say is that there is going to be some news! And there might be a sequel for this fic coming up in one day...  
> I hope you enjoyed reading, like I enjoyed writing this. :)


	17. Panicking And Missteps Of Sherlock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unexpected things. Sherlock is being a prat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I haven't updated for a long time. I have been extremely busy with my studies. It's all lame excuses. This chapter was supposed to orginally have a chapter before this one, but this just wanted to be published. I didn't plan first these things to happen in this chapter or at the story.

It made me nervous. I tried to hide it from Sherlock even though I knew it wasn’t going very well. I wasn’t sure if it was so, I didn’t…I was even less so sure then. Things had been good since my move. But after the visit at his mother… Things were good now or at least better than they had been. Mrs Hudson was extremely happy. She popped in for a cup a tea every now and then. John and Sarah were enjoying their new home. Things were good with everyone at least they were until I realised the facts on that afternoon. And I panicked over it at work. I knew exactly how many days it had been I just couldn’t face it. I was just late. I had to be. I run to nearest Boots and bought it. After work I did it at the offices toilet. I threw it to the bin. On my way to Baker Street I called to Sarah. Tomorrow. Clinic. At lunch time. 

At evening Sherlock was out, in a case, for once I was glad about it. At night I fell asleep alone and at morning I woke up alone. I knew he had been there at night, watching me sleep barely sleeping himself. The morning at the office went quickly and at lunch time I went to clinic. Sarah agreed with the test. I was freaking over it and she congratulated me.

I didn’t know what to say.

I was expecting Sherlock’s child.

 

After my long lunch break it was hard to concentrate. My mind was elsewhere. John had seen me there, not knowing for why, but he had promised not to talk about it to Sherlock. 

Sherlock. That was just the thing. I didn’t know how he would take it. Hell, I didn’t know how I was taking it. 

I had told him that I loved him. I had moved in with him. I liked living in Baker Street. Mrs Hudson liked me. People generally liked me and found me sweet but to Sherlock I was extraordinary. I didn’t try to look reason for it, we had mostly been careful, but these things did happen. 

I didn’t know what I wanted. Well I wasn’t exactly sure. I wasn’t fine with it, everything but fine, calm and relaxed. How to tell him?

 

When I came home from the office Sherlock was there. He was almost like waiting for me but the same time paid no attention to me. I said hi to him while he was lying on the sofa but I got no reaction back from him. He was in his mind place, in his mind palace. Not house, library, shelf or something normal. A huge palace, luxurious one, I assumed. I could imagine it very vividly but I doubt he saw it that way. So I made tea and toast and placed a cup and slice next to him and sat a chair nearby and watched and waited. 

Surprisingly soon he cleared his mind and was back to reality, back to our world. I hadn’t touched my cup of tea. I wanted more time. I was scared to tell him. I didn’t know what to say.

He just sat and watched me and occasionally raised the cup to his lips or bites a piece of toast. He observed me. We stayed in silence until I spoke. “I need to tell you something”.

I saw how his brain started to work even more, deducing everything what I said or didn’t say, reading my face and posture. I had to get it over with before he would start acting all smart ass, too cleaver. I was nervous. I remembered the conversation, that one conversation we had had about me wanting children, on that day at the park where I observed the blackmailer with Sherlock. 

“You are pregnant”, Sherlock said.

He deduced it while I was trying to find the right words to tell him. “Yes”, I said.

It was hard to look at him but I had to. But he wasn’t looking at me. He had jumped up from the chair and was looking outside of the window on the busy Baker Street. “You know what I think about it”, he said. Talking to the window.

“Do I?”

He turned to look at me. His eyes were cold examining me. I felt so uncertain. “We talked about this subject once”, he said. His tone was something I didn’t want to hear. “You should know what I think”.

It was hard for me to say. “You don’t want children”. I said the words that had been hunting in my mind.

“That is obvious”, Sherlock said like it didn’t matter at all. He was more annoyed and bored by the subject.

“What do you want?” I asked.

“You can have the child if you want but I want take any part of the matter”, he said.

He sounded so cold. He was. He didn’t want it.

“Are you making me to choose?” I asked.

“Between what”, he sounded so bored to the subject.

“Between you and the child”, I said the words when he had mend that there was no options.

“I’m not forcing you to choose anything, simply telling you what will happen”, he said and pulled a book from the shelf and started browsing through it. 

Our conversation about the subject was over.

He didn’t care about it.

I couldn’t.

I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t be there. 

He had no feelings. 

 

I left my cold tea cup there beside my barely touched toast and went to bedroom. I couldn’t spend the night there. I couldn’t. I threw few things to a little bit bigger bag so that I could handle a one night somewhere else. 

For a moment I sat on the edge of the bed. It was so hard. I heard him walking at the living room. I didn’t want to be there. I didn’t want to speak to him. I had no words to him. I had told him something so important and he didn’t care. He didn’t care about the pain I had. How he hurt me with his cold words. I would have needed his support. I couldn’t be there. I took my phone and bag and left. I needed air. 

I was glad Mrs Hudson didn’t hear me leaving. She often opened her door and chatted for me in the hallway for few minutes. Now I couldn’t pretend to be okay. I was not okay.

I walked with a messenger bag on my shoulder and my work bag in my hand. I didn’t know where I was going to go. First I just needed air. It was so much warmer now as it was late spring.

 

\--

 

There were things John trusted more than live. Medical things. But that kind of love wasn’t something he had expected to see or feel. It wasn’t normal or natural. It was more. They had a connection. They weren’t a pair. They were one, but still so different so constantly changing. A moment in time. They were so weird and so right to watch together. It was wrong and right. Blue and white. The darkest corner and summer day. They were the opposites of same thing. His best friend and her. 

John had learned new things of his friend in love. He was somehow more now. A better at everything. A little bit easier to handle. As stubborn as always, but somehow it was easier. 

Since her recovery, there had been fewer dangerous cases, except the Russian assassins, less experiments and only very little smoking and patches. She didn’t really mind, but Sherlock didn’t need it anymore. They all three got along well. Sherlock worked on the cases with him and spent a lot of time with her before they moved together. She had been there several night of the week before that. Now John had time of his own. Things were better with him and Sarah. They were really talking and enjoying living together. Then Sherlock told it. 

There were two things John had never expected Sherlock to say and now he was talking about the first one. Dreamed of it. That had been before the case with the Russian assassin. They were going on a fast track, but somehow it suited them. But Sherlock didn’t speak about it after that case. And then John saw Elisa at the clinic on next week talking to Sarah. Elisa looked surprised to see John there on his day off, but he was taking some lunch to Sarah. Elisa looked bewildered, nervous, scared somehow. She made John to swear not to tell Sherlock that he had seen her there. Telling lies to Sherlock wasn’t something Elisa never wanted to do. John didn’t like the idea, but was starting to like Elisa. He could call her a friend.

On the same night Sarah had just popped to the corner shop to get some milk. How was the milk always gone, John wondered when he noticed that Sarah had forgotten her now ringing phone to the flat. John saw who was calling and answered.

“Hi, this is John at Sarah’s phone”, John answered to Elisa’s call. He didn’t think Sarah minded.

“Could I talk to her”, Elisa asked, she sounded a bit odd.

“I’m sorry, she popped out to the grocery store”, John told her.

“Oh, it’s fine then. I’ll call later”, she was a bit uneasy.

“Are you alright”, John asked.

“Fine, just fine. I’m fine”, the voice at the other end wasn’t fine, not at all.

“He made you cry. What did he do?” John asked, he could hear, she was holding tears back.

“Nothing”, she said.

“He did nothing to make you cry?” John didn’t believe her.

“He didn’t mean it. It’s fine”, she tried to insist.

“You don’t sound fine”, John told her.

“It doesn’t really matter. I will call her later”, she wanted to hang up.

“Okay, take care of yourself”, John wished he could have done more. 

 

Then John called to Sherlock, she clearly hadn’t been at Baker Street. John had heard sounds of a park, wind in the leaves, people chatting on background, children playing.

“What did you do?” John asked.

“What do you mean?” Sherlock was annoyed by his call.

“You made her cry”, John told him.

“How do you know that?” Sherlock asked.

“She tried to call Sarah”, John told.

“That’s not surprising. I didn’t think it would upset her”, Sherlock said like he didn’t care.

“Apologise to her, whatever it was, say that you are sorry. Mean it”, John was a bit mad to her friend for the lack of caring. Sherlock just hung up.

 

When Sarah came back John told her that Elisa had tried to call to her, that she was upset. Sarah talked with her a moment in the other room. “Would it be alright if she stayed here tonight?”

“Of course”, John said. If it was that upset it was something serious. “What’s wrong? Should I go to see Sherlock?”

“I can’t really talk about it. It’s just the way Sherlock reacted to something. Maybe you could stay at Greg’s this night?” Sarah begged for him.

John thought about that uncomfortable couch, in the other hand it would be good to spend some time with Greg.

“Sherlock didn’t think he had done anything he should be sorry about. But I don’t know what’s going on”, John said.

“Oh, that stupid, stupid man! He just doesn’t understand her sometimes. He being all that cleaver isn’t really making things easier for her”, Sarah was furious to Sherlock.

“It’s something to do with that why she was at the clinic”, John guessed.

“Yes. And even that is more than I can say, you know it. She is just freaking over it and more to Sherlock’s reaction”, Sarah said. John wondered what it was about.

“But she’s fine? Healthy, I mean?” John asked

“You men! Yes, of course she is fine”, Sarah said bit annoyed now to John.

Then John understood it. The reason why. “Oh. Oh. She is, oh.”

“Yes. You could mention to Sherlock about certain facts of life, when they got this all cleared, whatever they going to do”. Sarah said.

“I don’t think I even want to know how Sherlock reacted to that”, John said. He really didn’t want to know what his best friend, that idiot, had said. “Make sure that she is alright.”

“Don’t say a word to anyone”, Sarah asked the obvious.

“Of course I won’t”, John said. “That’s why she was so freaked out at the clinic.” 

John left soon to Greg’s who was delighted that he came to visit and was happy to let him sleep on the sofa for the night. Things with Greg were better now. John knew that he was dating Molly.

\--

“You have to talk to Sherlock”, Sarah insisted. “It’s like he doesn’t understand it at all. He seems to hate the idea of it”.

“How can he… I don’t… He is driving everyone mad by this behaviour of his”, John said

\--

“Look Sherlock, she is going to have a baby. A child. A child that is yours”, John stared at Sherlock, but it had no effect on him. “It’s your child. It’s going to have half of your genes. Probably you hair and be as smart arse as you when he’s all grown up. How can you be this stupid? She’s been crying her eyes off for days. You are breaking her heart.”

“I didn’t plan that”, Sherlock said like it was something to really plan, having a baby.

“You didn’t plan having a child with her? That’s too bad Sherlock. That’s going to happen. Don’t be such a prat. It’s you responsibility as well as hers. She is so torn that she can’t see you face. You can’t make her choose“, John couldn’t understand Sherlock’s childish act.

“I’m not making her choose”, he said.

“You didn’t tell her that you wouldn’t have anything to do with a baby”, John asked.

“I did”, Sherlock said, like he wasn’t really listening.

“So you want her to choose you over her child. That’s just cruel Sherlock, just cruel.”

“I don’t see it that way. I stated that I won’t raise a child with her. She can have a child if she wants, but that’s it. I can’t be around a child”, Sherlock said.

“So she’s going to lose you for the sake of your child”, John said.

“If she thinks it’s more important”, Sherlock said.

“More important? God, Sherlock, if you could only hear yourself! How can you be so stupid! It’s your child. She wants to raise him with you. She wants him to be as smart as you, to look like you, but have a heart”, John hated his friend at that moment.

“I have a heart”, Sherlock said. He sounded harsh. “It is an essential part of human anatomy --”

“No you don’t. This is unacceptable, Sherlock. Things won’t be the same ever again after you have done this. Not between you and her, not between you and anyone. You don’t seem to understand how this hurts her.” John was frustrated. 

“I don’t”, Sherlock admitted.

“Talk with her. Sherlock, don’t be so God damn cruel!” 

“You are angry”, there was surprise on Sherlock’s voice.

“Well deduced. Yes, Sherlock I’m angry for you behaviour. You don’t seem to notice, it’s not alright. It’s not alright at all!” John almost yelled.

“I should talk to her?” He asked warily. 

“Think about it before you do. You already broke her heart. It’s your child. I don’t think you planned it, but things don’t always go as planned. It’s going to happen. Think about it. He will grow up without a father. Without you, only to learn that you broke her mom’s heart and didn’t want him”, John said.

“Him?” Sherlock asked like it was a meaningful thing.

“Him or her, it impossible to tell yet”, John said.

“I know”, Sherlock said then quietly added. “She hates me”.

“It’s not too late”, John tried to say.

“The child is better off without me”, Sherlock said back in the gloom.

“You know that’s not true”, said a voice at the door. He had let himself in again.

“It’s not your business, Mycroft”, Sherlock said.

“It is when you are acting this way. Did you want to grow up without a father?” Mycroft asked.

“I had you”, Sherlock said, didn’t look at his brother.

“I was your brother. Your big brother, it wasn’t my job”, Mycroft said. 

For the first time John could see that this was the reason behind the brother’s dispute. Mycroft had acted as Sherlock’s father not as a brother.

“I’m not a good parent”, Sherlock said.

“Nobody is”, John said, “Where would all these people came from if people would start to think if they are good parents or not. You will learn”.

They both talked Sherlock into it. In to accepting it. Seeing that he was hurting her. Hurting himself and the child. That he actually wanted it, if he would just think about it for a moment and not all the annoying and difficult things. Truth was simply that Sherlock had been scared. He still was, but maybe slowly he was trying to accept it.

 

\--

 

I barely could sleep at the flat at our bed. The good thing was that he wasn’t there. I had stayed two nights at John and Sarah’s. It was already too much hospitality from them. So I had come home from work tired, Sherlock had not been there. He wasn’t there at the next morning, but I could see that things had moved in living room. He had been there at the night. I left quite early to work and returned as late as I could. I ate out, didn’t cook anything for him, and didn’t even think about his wellbeing. I felt that things were quite near the end on the third day when I didn’t see him. On the fourth he slept the night in the couch. At the morning of the fifth we didn’t really speak, just noticed each other over breakfast. I couldn’t look him properly otherwise I would have… I don’t know. I wouldn’t have been able to handle it. 

He just sat at his chair and read the paper while I made coffee. I didn’t think about it and poured it to two mugs. I stared at the mugs for a while. I should have thought about what I was doing. Then I decided to suck it up. I took the mug for him and place it on to a small sofa table. I could give it to him. I heard the crumbling paper as he looked at me behind the newspaper, but I didn’t look. I walked back to kitchen and finished my breakfast in silence. 

 

Work took my thoughts away from him. The promotion which I had got a few weeks back hadn’t really been a surprise after what Mycroft had said, but my co-workers were not wondering it either. I had been good at my previous office, but this promotion let me go to field every now and then. I actually talked to people and figured out bigger insurance issues. Of course mostly it was as boring as anything to do with insurances was, but sometimes there was something tiny that I could figure out and really to use my intellect to do it. On that fifth day that we were not talking I had lunch with one of my new co-workers. She was my senior after working at that post for couple of years so she was still guiding me into that office’s habits. 

We sat on the café nearby, I was eating a salad as well as I could, but it just didn’t taste good. I didn’t feel that well. Harriet was of course older than I was, she already had a family, but we did get along pretty well. Our position at the office allowed us to forget all about the work during lunch break, so we chatted about everything. I almost trusted her as I had learnt not to trust people as much as I had trusted before. 

It was really hard for me to keep up a bright face out of office and she could see that. 

“You have been so quiet for the past days”, Harriet said.

“Yeah. I think so too. It just things”, I said and nibbled more of the salad.

“And you are barely eating that delicious salad”, she continued.

“So it looks good to you?” I asked as I couldn’t see it. To me everything at that café had looked, well, not so good or smelled quite right.

“It’s so fresh and watery”, Harried said and ate her own salad.

“I’m just having some issues with my boyfriend”, I said. 

“So it’s that tall dark one, who you picked you to lunch few weeks back?” Harriet asked.

“Yes. That’s him, Sherlock”, I said and sighed. 

“That doesn’t sound good. You two seemed so in love then”, Harriet said. She tried to keep her long red curly hair back of her shoulders. 

“We… I…” It was so hard to say anything about it. I had not talked to Sarah about it after the first few nights I spend at their flat. “I think we are probably breaking up over something that’s more important. That’s important to me and he just doesn’t care.” I was about to cry and I wasn’t even saying it.

“Oh, I’m sorry for asking. Do don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to”, Harriet said and looked worried.

“No, it’s okay. It’s just been so hard to be even in the same flat with him”, I said.

“You argue a lot?” Harriet asked.

“Not at all really. We just don’t talk”, I said. I had not had courage even to talk to Sarah about it.

“What about”, Harriet asked as she noticed that I actually wanted to talk about it to someone. 

“Anything. The last time he said something…He…He is…” I couldn’t say it. “I’m just making the hardest choice in my life.” I took a sip of the water I had. “Well, it’s not really a decision, never was. Now it’s just that it’s so hard to leave. I don’t want to and I have no choice. He is too difficult to love”.

“I’m sorry for you”, Harriet said. “Are you sure you don’t need a personal day or something?”

“It wouldn’t make it any better”, I said. 

 

Just that I was able to say few words about it to someone helped a bit for me to struggle thru the work day. It was Friday and the whole weekend was ahead. I was a bit nervous, more than that. I worked later than I really needed. I didn’t want to go home. The tube was already done with workers returning home and more filled with people going to a date or something. I couldn’t sit down on the bench. I was afraid of starting to cry all the time. I was thinking about it. It was no way an ideal situation. It was nothing I would have chosen. I was scared of doing it all alone. I couldn’t let myself think about it in public. 

I changed the line to one taking me to Baker Street and when I finally stepped out of the tube station, to much fresher air, the day was turning to evening and I felt so alone. I fought against the tears. Picked up take-away chinese and walked to home. Turning key at the lock was hard. Walking the stairs was hard. Opening the door to our flat was difficult. Sherlock wasn’t there, at least not in living room. He had left some books on the couch, papers on the floor and his computer was still open. It wasn’t long ago when he had left. I missed him.

That was the thing that hurt the most.

I wouldn’t get over him.

I have to leave him and I still loved him.

But we couldn’t be together.

I barely could see what I was eating. At least I didn’t taste anything. I felt so stupid. It was my fault in a way, loving him so much. But I couldn’t kill a baby even though it was inconvenient, but it didn’t matter. Things were as they were. There was no choice in matter. I couldn’t be with him if he didn’t want it. We were done. We were done in my mind. 

I needed to find myself a new flat. I was going to have to start it all again. 

It hurt so much to love him. 

 

He wasn’t back at ten when I went to bed. I send him a text.

“We need to talk tomorrow - EB”

It was going to be over. I would never be ready .I would never say “yes” to him. 

 

I slept restlessly and at the morning I was still tired, but too wide awake to fall asleep again. Sherlock was there. I could hear him walking at the living room. We had barely spent time in the flat together, let alone in the same room and now I had to talk with him. Get it over with, even though I didn’t want to. But first I need to eat some breakfast. The idea of talking to him made me bit nauseated. I was anxious. 

I put on that burgundy red silk robe so that I wouldn’t shiver in my pyjamas and walked to kitchen to make coffee at first. The coffee grounds smelled so strongly, so earthly and almost mouldy. 

While waiting for the coffee I chanced to jeans, t-shirt and cardigan. He had bought the t-shirt to me of course he had, so secretly with little things telling me how he loved me. It was bad. So bad. I could smell the coffee in bedroom behind closed door. The smell lingered in the air. I felt sick. Really sick. 

I barely managed to bathroom. I had to sit on the cold tile floor so close to toilet. I felt so sick. I shivered, cold sweat on my skin. I had not thought it would come. I had not thought it would be that bad as I coughed and tried not to vomit anymore. It was so bad. 

Then he was there. Watching me. I could see him there on the corner of my eye, but I was too sick to move. I could feel him there.

“You are feeling sick”, he said as he stood just behind me at the bathrooms door to kitchen.

“Genius”, I managed to say, my voice was filled with anger.

He left and returned and put a glass of water beside me. I felt his hand on my shoulders.

“It’s making you sick”, Sherlock said. He sounded worried. “What can I do? Tell me what can I do?”

He sat to ground beside me, wiped my hair from my face. “Tell me what can I do?” His voice was panicking. 

“Don’t be so nice. Don’t. When you don’t care”, I said. “Leave me alone. I can manage. I have to manage”.

It was so cruel for him to be there. To pretend to care. Even if he cared just about me and not that child, it was too much. He had made his choice and I wasn’t part of it. “Go away”, I begged. It hurt more to my heart that he was there. I needed and wanted him and couldn’t have him. “Leave”.

I hadn’t looked at him. I couldn’t. Even hearing his voice made me colder inside. I shivered and hoped that slowly the ill feeling would pass. 

“No”, he said then.

What did he mean by that one word? No to what? Leaving? 

“I can’t be around you. Not anymore. Go away. Let me manage on my own, like I have to“, speaking those long sentences was hard.

“No”, he said then again. 

“No”, he said and lifted me chin up and forced me to look at him. “No, not alone”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you could feel the pain in this chapter even when I'm lacking of words. To me this was emotional to write.   
> And as always I would love some comments. This is the only place I share my writing to anyone and really even every hit this story gets matters to me. I'm writing this fan fiction to me and now I'm sharing this to totall strangers just because I hope someone else might enjoy or like reading this.   
> One day I need to "rewrite" the first chapters because I know I making spelling errors everywhere. Sorry for those.


	18. Trust Issues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are not the same. Sherlock's reaction to everything is still so unclear. Whould she be able to trust him ever again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, it's been a long time! I have been away from a real computer and from the country and had no time for writing. These are my excuses, but I have missed writing.  
> So here is a new chapter which was supposed to tell a bit more and it had a diffrent title at the first, but this is how it turned out. I hope you like it. :)  
> Lately I have been feeling really insecure about my writing and I hope it doesn't show up in this.

I turned my head away. I didn’t trust his words. They were what I craved to hear, but were those words really something he meant, I wondered. He moved his hand gently on my back and talked. “I’m so sorry for the way I have behaved.” His voice was calm, but so quiet. He was suffering. “I don’t deserve you. I’m bad for you, you need someone better.” His hand felt so burning hot against my skin.

And even now he was thinking about himself. I was angry. It all had pounded up inside of me. I didn’t feel as sick as a moment ago, but not so good that I risked on leaving the bathroom. “Don’t touch me. Don’t dare to touch me!” I was freaking out.

He moved his hand away. 

I tried to steady my breathing, stop shivering and sweating cold. All the previous mornings it had not been anything like this. I had just got up felt a bit nauseated for a while, but it went away. And now I was on the bathroom’s floor feeling the worst ever. I had never felt less of an adult. What I needed and what I wanted were not the same things. And what I hoped was a secret. Everything was a mess.

What I wanted was to talk to my mum. I had not told her. I didn’t want to, but I still needed her words to make me feel better. I needed her calming voice and advices that really were thinking my best. I was here on my own, tortured by my own feelings. His words were not the once that hurt me the most nor his actions. It was my own thoughts and wishes. 

“I really want to do this”, Sherlock said. 

“It’s not about what you want”, I said. He really didn’t get it. I decided to risk it and go back to bed. I got up slowly taking support from the wall. Then I walked beside him. I could sense how much he wanted to touch me, give me a hug, place his hand on my shoulders or touch my cheek. “Don’t”, I hissed. 

So slowly I managed to get to back to bed and as soon as I had my head on the pillow my body decided that it felt better. Sherlock had still followed me to the bedroom and looked at me so worryingly. “Can I get you anything?” He asked. 

“No”, I said and he still brought me a glass of water. I took a sip and put it on the nightstand. I tried to sleep. The warmness of the duvet soon wrapped me into a sweet dream. Sweet and light coloured like everything was in shade of pastel colours and painted with watercolours. There was light touch on my skin as there was a butterfly that sat on my shoulder for a moment and then moving to my hair and then again flying away to my cheek. They wings were so soft. There smelled sweet, like some tea. I felt the touch on my cheek more strongly than I could see the butterflies in my dream. It wasn’t a dream anymore. I opened my eyes and saw him quickly returning to sat back at the floor.

“I didn’t mean to wake you”, he said.

“Sure“, I said.

It had been a beautiful dream, everything had been alright and now it wasn’t, it was the opposite. His apologise meant nothing. “Well I’m awake now”. 

It was now nearly noon. I had slept three more hours. I wondered had he sat there the whole time. His trousers’ knees suggested that. So I finally got up and went to kitchen to make breakfast or lunch to myself. I took some eggs out of the fridge and decided to make omelettes. Sherlock just kept following me. “I can make it for you”, he said.

That took me by surprise. I had never seen him cooking. Maybe making a sandwich or putting a kettle on, but nothing more advanced than that. Could he cook?

“Okay.” I said, “I’ll go and take a shower while you cook. Please don’t burn the kitchen”.

That one little sentence he had said had made my anger a bit less incontrollable. Maybe he would try? I needed warm water to keep me calm. I wasn’t calm enough for to talk to him. I wrapped a huge towel to my wet hair and walked to kitchen wearing the burgundy silk gown he had given to me. What would happen? I didn’t know anymore.

He had actually cooked lunch. Kitchen looked like mess, but there was food, the omelettes, but also some salad and herbal tea. I looked them astonished. “You really did cook”:

“I wanted to”, Sherlock said.

So that was it, he could do it if he actually wanted to. “So it’s about following instructions?” I asked as I could spot open cook book on the counter.

“That’s just the base of it”, he said.

That small conversation was more than we had had in a week.

 

I sat down to eat at the table he had made. There was folded napkins and everything. “Did you ask Mrs Hudson to help”, I asked as he handed me a plate filled with food.

He gave me one of those looks, like it was the most stupid question I could ever ask. That look was not helping any way.

“Are you going to eat”, I asked then when he just sat down opposite to me.

“I could.”

I didn’t say anything to that. I just picked up my knife and fork and began to eat. It was actually rather good. He could cook if he would be bothered. 

“You are feeling better”, he said.

It wasn’t a question. “I just don’t feel that sick anymore. I don’t feel any better”, I said.

“I am sorry”, he said.

“It doesn’t matter. You feeling sorry don’t change anything.”

“But I want to—“

I cut him off. “Neither what you want. It’s not about you”.

“I know. It’s about the baby”, he said.

“Then you should get it”, I said. “I can’t trust you”.

His face was so sad. “I don’t deserve it either.”

“You really don’t”, I said.

“Will you leave?” He asked.

“Do you want me to?”

“No”, he said so quickly.

“I don’t know”, I said then and took my plate to sink. “Are you going to also clean up?”

“Yes?”

“I need air”, I said.

“It’s raining. With that weather, the water resistance of your jacket is not--”. Sherlock started his usual lecture.

“I know. I don’t care.” I said tiredly.

“You shouldn’t catch cold”, he said.

“Like it matters to you”, my voice was flat.

“Everything about you matters!”

“Well, it doesn’t really seem so. I’m having a baby. You either want to take part or don’t.”

“I want to. I will!” His voice was getting a bit stronger.

“Do you even understand how much you have hurt me?”

“John implicated that –“

“Sherlock. I don’t care about what John thinks”, I said tiredly. “I’m still thinking if I’m letting you be part of this”.

“I know that I don’t deserve it.”

“You really don’t”, I said quietly. But the truth was I couldn’t be so cruel to him, not as cruel as he had been to me.

“What about our relationship?” He asked.

“What do you want?” I asked.

“You. I love you”.

“Love isn’t always enough”, I said.

“It should be”, he begged hands in his hair.

I was quiet. 

“You want it to be over”, he said.

“No. I just. I don’t know. It isn’t easy,” I said.

“You were going to leave me today”.

I didn’t deny it. 

“I understand”, he said. 

 

“Do you want to fight for what we have?” I asked then. “Love isn’t… I can’t force you to change”.

“Do you want me to fight for?”

“It’s up to you. If it’s what you want. I wish… I wish that things between as would be good. Wheatear we are together or not”, I said. That was my dearest wish.

“You could live without me?” He asked.

“If I needed to”, I said calmly. I was ready to do it if I would have to.

“You are stronger than I am”, Sherlock said.

I stood there by the sink still needing air. “I’m not strong enough”. I said and started washing the dishes. We were talking again. It was good beginning, but didn’t promise anything.

 

“I would do anything for you”, he said after a moment of drying the dishes.

“No you wouldn’t”, I said. I was sure of it.

“I would give up my work if that would make things better”, he said so quietly.

“It wouldn’t, but thank you”. I was trying not to get tears to my eyes by his words.

He dried all the dishes. He was more gentle, more caring. He was in pain. My phone rang. It was Sarah. I took it to bed room even though it didn’t matter Sherlock always knew what I had talked about on the phone and who to.

 

“How are things?” Sarah asked first, “how was this morning”.

“Worse”, was the one word to describe it. 

“But you sound better”, she thought.

“We are talking”, I told her.

“That’s good.”

“I hope so”, I wished.

“Do you want to come over tonight”, she asked.

“I think I will just stay at home. Maybe we could meet tomorrow afternoon?”

“I will call”.

 

\--

 

“They are talking”, Sarah said to John that evening when they were cooking dinner together.

“That’s good. I really hope that they’ll work it out”, John responded. 

 

\--

 

I thought that things got better after that morning every quickly, surprisingly so. Sherlock was in his best behaviour most of the time. He was more caring that before. He was showing all his emotions more, the worse and the best. He didn’t sulk as often as he used to or at least he told why. And I let him. Still he was impossible as always, but I loved him. He was who he was. Things between us got better little by little. 

I was always tired. I was tired at the mornings, at the afternoons and the evenings, but at nights it was difficult to sleep. When he was on a case I was even more restless. 

 

\--

 

“Sherlock, you know that it’s not that simple”, John said.

“It should be. I said it, I apologised and I meant those words. She should know.” Sherlock insisted. 

“It would be like that if it would be something small. This was a big deal. Do you know what a broken heart feels like?” John asked carefully. 

“You are a doctor, you should know that a heart can’t be broken, it would kill instantly or did they fail to mention that in medical school?“

“Sherlock, I didn’t mean in a literal way”, John said.

He was quiet a moment, “I guess I don’t.” 

It was hard for him to admit that, not knowing something. And this was about feelings. Those were always hard for him to understand. John had been a bit surprised when Sherlock had started to talk about it to him on their way to a crime scene where Lestrade had asked them to come. John assumed that the crime scene was so close that they walked and talked over the way there. Sherlock never walked to a crime scene. Never.

“I could talk to the skull at the flat”, he said then.

So John was once again just a replacement for the quiet skull of a human which Sherlock had once called a friend in the early years of their friendship. 

“This case is boring”, Sherlock said.

“Why did you take it then?” John asked.

“I couldn’t stay at the flat alone”, Sherlock said and hailed a cab for them.

 

The crime scene was like many others had been earlier. In five minutes Sherlock had find the murder weapon, figure out the murderer’s identity and the motive. Also he had insulted Anderson and almost got into a verbal fight with Donovan. 

“Stop it, you two”, Lestrade shouted to them. “Donovan, you should know better. Sherlock you should keep your home trouble at home.”

“So did she already left you, freak? Or did she just found out what you are?” Donovan spoke quickly.

“DONOVAN”, Lestrade’s voice was very loud.

Sherlock just turned away and left, his jacket moving in the airflow of his quick steps. John couldn’t catch him even if he tried. Shouting his name gave no result. 

“Donovan, I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but that was just too much”, John defended his friend.

“The freak has no right—“

“That was it, Donovan. I warned you last time. This will go to your records.” Lestrade told her.

“But sir!”

“I gave you a warning, plenty of them unofficially. That’s it.” Lestrade was strict. 

“The freak—“ Donovan started.

“That’s enough. Donovan, go and help Anderson”, Lestrade ordered. 

John watched as Donovan finally walked away. “That really got to Sherlock”, Lestrade said. 

“Yeah”

“It wasn’t even the worst things she had said to him”, Lestrade said.

John felt a bit uncomfortable to talk about something so meaningful to Sherlock but Lestrade was both of their friend.

“They just have some issues to work out. Bit of a downhill path. So he is a bit…” John tried to look for a word to describe him but Lestrade just said, “I noticed.”

“It just takes time”, John assumed.

“The way Sherlock has looked for the past few weeks… It’s like after, after the… You know. On the edge all the time. Looking like he is in pain more than anything. “ Lestrade spoke with mind in the time neither of them talked about anymore.

“Yeah.”

“A pint later this week?” Lestrade asked.

“Sure”, John promised just as he left the crime scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you for reading! And then I hope that this seemed like it was written in a one piece and not in several parts in months apart. I'm not completely happy with this, but I want to story to move forwards and to the next chapters, which I am excited about. There will be at least two more chapters, possible three. It actually depends how my-version-of-Sherlock acts in paper and do I want to include a side story which I have partly written to this fic. There would be some out of country travelling in that side story, but I'm not sure about writing it...


	19. There Is Nothing Wrong With Nottingham – Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why does it have to be there? It could be held here, in London, so you wouldn’t have to travel all the way there.” Sherlock was frustrated.
> 
> “It’s just two hours away by train”, I told him.
> 
> “It’s not London”, he said like London was the only place to be.
> 
> “There is nothing wrong with Nottingham”, I told him and almost laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! This is part one of this chapter. Actually this was supposed to be short chapter before the end chapters, but it just kind of exploded as I could just leave Nottingham. I think there will be some additional chapters in this story, and perhaps this story might e part of series. But about this chapter... It's again written in different points of time. I do not mean anything bad for Nottingham or anyone from there, I really like the city! But just the first thing I knew about the city, when I googled it few years ago, has a part in this story.

Letting him part of it was hard, loving him harder. He wasn’t perfect, no one is, but we all have faults. He was so impatient, he was… well himself with all the moods he had. But the thing is, I loved him more than was healthy and more than was smart for me to do. All the dangerous stuff he did, even when John was looking after him, I felt he was in danger and it made me nervous. But I loved him too much to say that he can’t do it. It was his work. It was what used to be the thing he lived for when nothing else mattered. Now that was different and slowly changing. He was starting to notice, to realise, that his priorities were changing.

Mornings were especially bad for me still. I started to going bed earlier and waking up earlier to manage it better and not to feel so sick when I was travelling to work. Sherlock was worried about me.

There were days when everything was fine and days when I just wanted to strangle him. Like that day he didn’t show up at the first ultrasound. I didn’t even bother to text him to ask where he was. If he was going to come he would have been there. But no, he had been on a case with John for the past few days helping out Lestrade once again. But the next day after they had captured the murderer Sherlock realised what he had forgotten.

“There was a case”, he said.

“I know”, I sighed.

“It doesn’t mean that… I… I wanted to be there, but it just. I. It’s the cases.” He tried to explain.

Yes, I knew they meant more. I gave him the photo that I had from the tiny thing, the tiny thing which was changing things. He sat down to his favourite chair. Not because he wanted to, but because he needed to sit down. His hands were trembling. It was the tiny thing that was growing to become a human. Sherlock looked so odd. His eyes glued to the picture, his lips forming unrecognizable and silent words.

“That’s what you missed”, I said.

Then he was quiet for a while until he said, “It was wrong decision.”

I hoped so.

“What I missed was too important”, he said eyes still in the picture.

I knew he was going to be making more wrong decisions but at least admitting afterwards that he had been wrong was part of going to the right way. He came to me and hold me so close for a moment. “I should have come there”.

“Yes. “ I said and touched his chin with my forehead.

“Next time?”

“Next time.” I said and then asked. “What were you saying when you looked at the picture?”

“Was I saying something?” He asked.

“It wasn’t English really. Mixture of languages and words too silent to hear”, I told him.

“How do you know it was different languages?”

“I could read your lips when it was English”, I said.

“Oh, you cleaver girl”, he said a bit awkwardly to me. “I didn’t know you could do that”.

“Tell me about the case?” I asked.

“It was rather obvious really”, he said, already bored to it.

Good to say that after all the time the case had taken.

“John will probably write to his blog about it and leave out again all the important parts.”

“I wanted you to tell me about it, not read about it”, I said patiently.

“But he is—“

“Sherlock”, I sighed. “That’s not the point. It was important to you, so I want to know why”.

“Oh.”

“It’s like when I tell you about my day at work, but I don’t really expect you to listen, because it hasn’t been that important to me”, I said.

“But I always listen to you then”, he said.

“I know”, I sighed.

“I want to hear about it”, he said.

“And I want to hear about your _day at the office_ ”, I said.

Sherlock smiled, “I’m not a story teller”.

“I’m not waiting for a fairy tale.” I waited for him to begin.

In very short description he told about the case but I could see in which points John must have been rolling his eyes or telling Sherlock “not bit good” or what he as well as I found amazing. Because that’s what Sherlock was, amazing. I smiled when he finished, “Quite an adventure”.

“Just an ordinary _day at the office_ ”, he said.

So we laughed and the day was good.

 

His work, cases, went fine, but mine was a bit more challenging to me sometimes. The department in which I worked had the most challenging cases. So called “leg work” was needed and it wasn’t just meeting the clients behind a desk anymore. The office even wanted to send me and few co-workers to a weekend course to Nottingham. It was for educating us about the new aspects of the job or just giving the latest information about handling the cases and clients we dealt with.

“Why do you have to go?” Sherlock asked on Thursday evening when I was packing my luggage.

“It’s compulsory”, I told him.

“Mycroft could get you out of it”, he said.

“No”, in no way I was skipping it.

“Why does it have to be there? It could be held here, in London, so you wouldn’t have to travel all the way there.” Sherlock was frustrated.

“It’s just two hours away by train”, I told him.

“It’s not London”, he said like London was the only place to be.

“There is nothing wrong with Nottingham”, I told him and almost laughed.

“Have you googled it? Gun crime capital of UK”, he tried to reason his feelings that he didn’t recognise.

“It’s not that bad”, I insisted.

“Well, it was few years ago”, he admitted then.

“Why you don’t want me to go?” I asked.

“Of course you can go. I just merely was pointing out some facts—“ He started, but I didn’t let him finish.

I just smiled and said, “So you are going to miss me”

“I…” He looked lost, didn’t find the words to say it.

“It’s okay”, I said and kissed him. “It’s just a weekend”.

“It is thirty-six hours there and I can’t even see you tomorrow after work.” He told the exact time it would take.

“Sometimes when you are on a case we haven’t seen for a much longer time”, I told him.

“But then I could see you if I really needed to. You would be here.” Sherlock tried once more.

“It’s just two hour train ride away.” It wasn’t so long distance really, just two hours.

“Plus the journey to the station”, he added.

“It’s just a boring weekend in a lousy hotel room and lectures at a too well air conditioned classrooms at the university. “ I wasn’t so excited about it.

“So there will be a lot of people”, he concluded.

“From every city the company has offices dealing with that level clients”, I told him.

“So why are you nervous?” He asked.

“Because I’ll miss you and don’t get to spent the weekend with you”, I told him.

He smiled a bit with his eyes. ”There is something else. For some more practical reason. It’s about what you said _lousy hotel room_. You are sharing your room and not too keen about it“.

“Yes”, I didn’t need to know how he had deduced it.

“So it’s a co-worker”, Sherlock said.

“Yes, she is a bit older, almost a friend really, but it just that feels a bit odd. She is always so classy and I don’t feel that way“. I didn’t say that I was scared that she would find out about the baby. I wasn’t ready to tell anyone.

“But you are perfect to me”, he said.

“Really?”

“Really”, he said.

It wasn’t good that we ended up snogging on top of pile my clothes waiting for to be lifted to my luggage. My clothes were going to be so crumbled on the next day.

 

On Friday morning Sherlock just continued to sleep as I slipped away from the bed and had a bit of breakfast before heading to work with the luggage. It was just a bit shorter day and time to catch the train to Nottingham. Harriet two other co-workers and I shared a cab to the station. Of course she was travelling with a nice LV bag and mine was a rather embarrassingly pink and old, so not classy.

It had been just office work for me today, so it was nice to get out of the building. But I would have so much rather travelled home in the tube and be curled in the sofa waiting for Sherlock to come home and have dinner together. But no, that wasn’t going to happen, because soon I was sitting in train with a newly baked muffin, cup of tea and some apple slices. I loved those apple slices mixed with grapes that were most likely meant for kids snacks. But I needed those snacks I was hungry all the time. Harriet was on very chatty mood but luckily talking more to one other co-worker.

When had I changed to this young professional from the just graduated university student? So short time and I was in a so different place in life. I was happy about it.  
“You have such a nice smile there”, Harriet said to me.

“Oh, thanks”, I said a bit nervously.

“What’s the reason for that then?” She asked.

“Just enjoying life”, I said and smiled again.

“Ah, it was so nice to be young and in love”, she said and laughed.

“You are young, don’t try to fool us”, Ann said.

 

Dinner at Friday night had been a nice one. It was good to get to know everyone outside of the office hours and few other people from Nottingham’s office. After the dinner we went to drinks in a church which had turned into a bar. I thought that it was rather odd and it would certainly never happen where I came from. It was nice open planned setting, two levels, cosy tables and bit of dance floor.

I wasn’t really thinking for dressing for such a place when I was packing. Most of the people there were either professionals drinking wine or students enjoying night out on a bit more expensive place. The music wasn’t still too loud for chatting.

I was just drinking glass of water when somebody tried to come and hit me. I just wasn’t interested and I could see what people wanted. Money, sex, lies whispered in quiet moments. Love was a rarity. In some other time I might have enjoyed staying out with co-workers but not now. I just wanted to go home and sleep, be hold by Sherlock and not be in middle of so many people in beautiful surroundings of an old building. None of it mattered and I just had to try to be joyful as I missed London and him.

“You seem to be somewhere else, in your thoughts”, Harriet said.

“I guess so, sorry”, I apologised.

“Missing someone?” Patricia asked.

“Yeah, stupid though. He is so often gone for his work for longer time, but now this distance just…” Then I laughed, they had no idea what I was talking about or what sort of work my boyfriend did.

“So tell us about your boyfriend”, Ann asked.

“I hardly heard you mention his name,” Harriet said.

I smiled a bit but I wasn’t going to say his name. Not after I learned the impact it could have after what had happened to me. Not the way that the papers had written about him earlier, what I had find out just by googling his name. I didn’t want to tell people who didn’t really know him or me.  
“He is… I don’t know, brilliant, smart and handsome. So cleaver and impatient”, I laughed. “He sounds so crazy, but maybe I am for loving him”.

“Well, you certainly sound like in love. Have you been together long?” Patricia asked.

“Ages and not long at all”, I said as it hadn’t really been that long time and I didn’t really want to say that either.  
“So what about, how long have you been married?” I asked from Harriet turning to conversation away from me. Even when I missed him, even though I wanted to be somewhere else it was rather nice to spent time outside the office with co-workers. We did laugh, gossip and it was nicer than I had expected. Of course they drank few glasses of wine and I just had that glass of coke which nobody really questioned why.

 

Evening time at Nottingham was different. There was lot of students, people going to clubs. Many police cars and officers walking in the Old Market Square and streets around it and the NTU’s city site campus. City was more alive now than it had been during daytime. But it was darker city with homeless people sleeping in street corners and doorways or I just noticed them more easily than in London. It wasn’t worse than any other city but it wasn’t better either. My co-workers were on cheerful mood after those drinks and we went to get some food one of the still open McDonalds. We sat there among the students and the too late out teenagers and gossiped and giggled while nibbling our food. At least I felt like a bit of an outsider wearing that dress he had given to me. It was one of those small gifts that found their way to my closet without asking me. Those little things to which he didn’t really want me to pay attention. Of course I noticed, of course I knew. But it was a nice dress for everyday use, three-quarter sleeves, half linen material that wrinkled on purpose. I could wear it almost anywhere with just different accessories. It was so comfortable and not too tight so that I didn’t feel like I had gained weight. There was the one thing; I knew the dress was more expensive than I wanted to know.

There at that McDonalds Patricia spoke about the dress to me. “Where have you found that dress because it has been sold out for a long time”.

“My boyfriend bought it to me”, I said bit cautiously.

“Wow. He really has expensive taste.” She said.

“What do you mean?” Harriet asked. “It’s a pretty dress but—“

“Do you know what’s it worth? It has nearly four digits in it”, Patricia told us.

“Oh.” Slipped from my lips.

“You didn’t know?” She asked.

“I just… He doesn’t care about money”, I said, tried to explain it with that.

“Haven’t you checked the label? Your boyfriend must be quite a… Wow.” Ann said.

“So you gonna marry money“, Patricia said.

“No, I won’t. That doesn’t matter”, I defended it.

“Not when you have it”, Patricia said.

“I don’t come from money and all that”, I told her.

“He must come”, Patricia said.

“I don’t know and I don’t care”, I said a bit annoyed.

“The way he is spending it sounds like family money.” Patricia just said.

“All that he spends he has earned”, I told her.

“So he is an investor”, she guessed.

“No”, I said.

“And not in banking”, that wasn’t guess.

“I’m not saying what he does for living”, I told her.

“I know who he is”, said Ann. “I have seen him meeting you for lunch”.

“So someone famous!” Patricia was excited.

“No, not really”, I said.

“He was well known, he still is a bit of an internet phenomenon”. Ann said. She knew. “I think you must be crazy for loving him, but maybe he is different in person”.

“He really isn’t”, I laughed. “Thanks.”

“Oh, tell us then. You can’t leave it as a mystery”, Patricia begged.

“Well, that can be a hint”, Ann said. “Mystery”.

“A mysterious internet phenomenon, doesn’t ring a bell”, Patricia said.

“Oh, but everyone knew his name few years ago. It was rather odd really and all the stories about him and his best friend the doctor”, Ann continued. “I think really that you two match quite well. You just seem as brilliant enough for him. How could you two even met?”

“Milk aisle of Tesco’s” I said.

“That’s so sweet and ordinary. I though he never did anything like that”, Ann said.

“Well, he is sweet when he wants to”, I told her.

“But I’m still bit surprised that it’s you, the girl, John has been hinting about in his blog”, Ann said.

“I haven’t really read his blog”, I confessed.

“You haven’t and half of the London does!” Ann was surprised.

“I know. Sherlock does tell me about the bits of it he doesn’t like”, I said.

“Sherlock? Please, tell me you are not dating Sherlock Holmes, that detective?” Patricia said.

“I think it is way more than dating. I would guess that you are living with him because John moved out”, Ann said.

“Wow”, Patricia sighed.

“Does it really matter?” I asked.  
“But he is famous”, Patricia said.

“Not really”, I said.

“He fucking jumped of a building and pretended to be dead. He has captured killers“, Patricia continued.

“Yes, I know. It doesn’t matter”, I told her.

“He must not be an easy person to live with”, Ann said.

“Well, who is? No one is perfect. I’m happy, so is he, we love each other. Isn’t that all that matters?” I said.

“Yes”, Harriet said and smiled to me. “Maybe we should be heading to hotel, it still quite early morning start”.

 

So I left with Harriet to our hotel conveniently located next to university building and where our lectures were on the next day.  
“I think Patricia had a bit too much to drink”, Harried said.

“Yes, I think so, that was a bit annoying”, I said.

“A bit, I would have walked away. You are too nice to people”, She said.

 

Harriet called home to wish goodnight. I sat on my bed and texted to Sherlock. We never really spoke on the phone.

“It’s weird that you are not here  
SH”

“I miss you too”  
“P.S I love you”

“Please, tell me that you are not referencing to that movie  
SH”

“No, how do YOU know it”

“All have to acquire bit of information about current cultural setting  
SH”

“It’s not current, it’s from 2007”

“You googled  
SH”

“You are watching TV”

“So are you  
SH”

“I miss you”

“Likewise  
SH”

“P.S I’m bored SH”

“Sleep”

 

\--

 

John was wishing for a case, anything so that he wouldn’t have to rely on that last possible alternative, Cluedo. No, there had to be something else to do, to keep his best friend occupied. Not thinking about her and the fact that she wasn’t in London. John wasn’t sure how she had known that it would be so difficult for Sherlock when she had warned John, even a weeks earlier, about that weekend. She had begged John to spend Friday evening with Sherlock.

She had changed his best friend a bit, not much, but so that he needed her. John had dragged Sherlock to the pub were John usually met with Greg. All the time there Sherlock kept complaining about the fact that it was dull, people were idiots and just generally being the annoying bastard he was, John’s best friend. Sometimes he fell to silence and observed people and then answered Greg’s questions more in a human way, almost friendly, but then again got bored very quickly and his answers became snappy and harsh and he just left. John hoped that he wasn’t heading to the station and to Nottingham.

After Sherlock left Greg spoke more openly to John. They hadn’t even mentioned Molly when Sherlock had still been there, but then Greg talked about her. He talked about her in a different way than just about a friend. “Fuck, I deserve some happiness, don’t I?”

“Yeah, mate, you do. Go for it”, John said. “Just, you know, she is a sweet girl.”

And she had been crazy for Sherlock, but now he was taken and maybe finally Molly could see how Greg had looked at her since that Christmas party years ago. Since that party were Sherlock had told that Lestrade’s wife was sleeping with a PE teacher. It’s seemed that Greg’s life was in better tracks than earlier. Well his work at the yard still was most of his life.

 

\--

 

I hated that morning. I knew I was white as a sheet. I could barely drink a bit of that orange juice at the breakfast. All the smells were so bad. I escaped to our hotel room for that half an hour I had before getting ready to leave for the training. I was just sitting at the bathroom’s floor when Harriet came back. “Dear, are you alright?”

“Yeah…”

“Not a stomach bug”, she said.

“No…Not really”, I admitted.

“Not that sort of. I see”, Harriet said and smiled. “So that’s reason for you freaking out at the lunch once. He is taking it better now?”

“Yeah, lot of better”, I said.

“Do you feel good enough to go?” She asked then.

“I have to”, I said and got up.

 

Before lunch the training was about the paperwork and things you should pay attention in a different sort of expected insurance fraud attempts, like in photos and in actual scenes. After lunch it was supposed to be photos and Sunday morning was some sort of field trip to a fake scenes. I had only been dealing with the paperwork aspects of the job as I had not yet had the training course for the work I was going to be doing. I was supposed to be a natural talent in it. I was a bit afraid of mess it up. Messing up a bit case for a client and get all the lawyers after me for the mistake. I was so new to this. Nobody had got promotions as quickly as I had done when I started at the company. It was a bit overwhelming.

For lunch break we went and ate together. Patricia had been sipping coffee all morning I was so hungry.

“Maybe some Italian or sandwiches at Pret A Manger?” Ann asked.

“Or we could test the cafeteria here at the uni?” Patricia suggested.

It wasn’t so long for my university days so I wasn’t that keen on it but I just wanted to eat something filling. “I’m fine with anything”, I said and we end up at the downstairs of Newton building at the cafeteria.

 

It was still all laughter and giggles when we stepped back to classroom. We were like university girls again, in the seminars paying no attention to the subject or giggling before class. There was, who I assumed the next lecturer be, waiting in the classroom. “Are we late?” Ann asked as she was the first one coming in, I stepped in the last.

“Close the door”, he said.

There was no please, it didn’t feel right. Then I saw a reflection from the window. It wasn’t alright. Others were taking their places at the tables, unknowing about what was going on.

He was holding a gun behind his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is there enough cliffhanger? 
> 
> So next chapter really reveals what happens in Nottingham.
> 
> I know nothing about insurances and everything about them is fiction.


	20. There Is Nothing Wrong With Nottingham – Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What really happens in Nottingham?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while. A long while. I am sorry. I will finish this story, I have just been extremely busy with university and last month I finally won NaNoWriMo. I might publish that story some point after this. I might. But here you go, a new chapter, this was supposed to be a bit longer, but I decided to make it two chapters so that I could updated a bit sooner.

I knew what I had seen. I tried to keep my face and voice calm. “I’m just going to go to toilet first, if that’s alright”, I said and opened the door again. 

“No, you won’t”, he said with strong voice.

“I’m not feeling very good”, I said then. I saw Harriet looking at me bit worried. She though that I wasn’t feeling well. I needed to get out of there, get help.

“Go and sit down”, he said and pointed at the gun to me.

It wasn’t surprise to me anymore, but Patricia screamed. 

“SHUT UP!” He shouted and pointed the gun at Patricia, not looking me for a moment. I slipped my phone to my back pocket.

It was ridiculous. It couldn’t be so.  
“You must be joking”, Harriet said.

“Turn the tables on their sides, surface facing the glass wall”, he told me.

I started to move the tables. Tables were big and it was difficult alone with uneven breathing, I couldn’t help my own panicking. I couldn’t help it. I was scared.

“You, help her!” The man ordered Ann. She was almost in tears. I could do nothing for her. My own panic was rising. I tried to shut down my emotions like Sherlock. Thinking of him didn’t help, I needed to be rational. I needed to get myself out of the situation.

I wanted to scream. We ended up sitting on the blue carpet in the classroom our backs against the overturned table blocking the view from the hallway through the glass wall to the classroom. How could this happen to me? Why? I closed my eyes, tried to breathe calmly. I felt Harriet’s hand on my shoulder trying to reassure me. But this wasn’t the worst place I had been. One more deep breath and I opened my eyes again. 

Then I did it. I slipped my phone from my pocket, but kept it behind of me, against the table. Slowly I pressed buttons.

“NTU.Lect.room. Man. Gun. Hostage. BCMyWork.Call.Police&M.”

Or that’s what there was supposed to read. I couldn’t be quite sure. It was so difficult to act like I wasn’t doing anything and in the same time in my mind try to remember and imagine which buttons to push to send the text to Sherlock. He would do anything in his powers to help. He would even ask Mycroft’s help for me. 

 

The man was passing back and forth the room. I tried to observe him. See like Sherlock had taught me. See more than I did every day at the office. Maybe that would help.  
He was in his late fifties or early sixties. Most of his hair had turned to grey, his hair line was declining. He had big hands. Workers hands, a lot of manual labour, but not recently. There were no fresh marks in his hands. They were well too clean for him to be working. Retired maybe? But then it had to be because of illness that couldn’t be seen, because he looked like a man who spent a lot of time outdoors. Farmworker? Owner? Or there was a possibility that… Because he didn’t work anymore he might had lost the farm.  
He hold the gun like it was surprisingly light. He was more used to hunting guns. So a farm was a likely answer. He was wearing ordinary well-worn, but tidy clothes. He didn’t care anything else about his appearance. He was just so bland, unnoticeable and ordinary in every way. 

Time passed. Half an hour. My eyes stayed fixed in his movements. I couldn’t know if my message had reached Sherlock or not, had anyone else done anything. Did anyone know what was going on? I hold Harriet’s hand for a moment. 

I felt like the whole floor, well the whole building was quieter. Maybe it was? Nobody had passed the hallway for a while. Well, of course I couldn’t really see it, except the vague reflection in the windows, but I could hear it. The emptiness of it. There were no steps. Maybe they now knew? I hoped somebody did. But in the other hand, what would that help? Was there something to do? I doubted. It was up to us. We were our own destiny.

It was nearly hour later. Only after that he spoke, yelled, again. He had turned angry now. That walk had been his moment of solitude before the action. We should have done something on that time. We had been too scared. We had stayed quiet. Now it was too late. He felt strong in his own mind He was again certain the action he was going to take, he had taken.

 

“There is no justice in the decisions you make!” He shouted.

“We are not there to give justice. It’s evaluation of facts that are given in the papers, pictures, reports and scene. You can always take your case to court if the outcome isn’t something you approve”, Harriet told him.

“Be quiet! The lawyers do nothing! I can’t afford them, not after what you paid to me!” He was furious.

“I’m sure some sort of--" Harriet began to say.

“SHUT UP! I want to know why! It’s one of you. It was one of you who signed those papers. I need to know who!”

“When?” Ann asked.

“You don’t even KNOW! January 2012. Case file: 5A2727Y31A”, he told it, remembered it by heart.

“Please calm down”, Ann asked quietly.

All I could see was the gun I his hands, yelling in my ears. I was alive. I was still alive. It had been ago when I had done it. Pressed those buttons and hoped that it helped. Now I did it again just with one hand. It was the case file number which I texted. It was all I could do. I was so grateful for the qwerty keyboard of my work phone. Those two texts were the only things I had found courage to do. I had done all I could. I felt so powerless. I was shaking because the cold feeling overtaking me slowly. Why was Harriet so strong now?

How did I end up in these situations? It was supposed to be a boring course weekend at midlands. But no, something had to happen so that it wasn’t anything ordinary. So it was us, three women from my office sitting in the room. It hadn’t been my case, it was before my time. I hadn’t even had the training to handle such cases yet. It needed experience and only one of us who had it, was Harriet.  
Oh.  
She had been working already at the office then. It was really she, who he was after and the whole company. A man with a gun and four hostages. Great way to spent Saturday afternoon. My work was supposed to be boring and safe office job. I was indoors in a classroom and still safe for a moment. Right now I couldn’t call my job boring, being hostage and all that. It wasn’t funny at all.

So because somebody had messed up his application and caused a chain reaction in his life, we were here as his hostages until he found out who had made the error. I didn’t want to know what he would do then, but it was rather obvious after all. I didn’t want to think about it. There was no good outcome in this. From the first moment when I had known who had been the one who made the error. But I couldn’t use that information. I had known all along really, just denied it in my mind. She was so strong.

 

I was slowly crying because of fear. Fucking gun crime capital of UK. I had said there is nothing wrong with Nottingham, maybe not with the city, but with the people. Well that person. The man with the gun.

 

\--

 

“You need to calm down”, Lestrade asked for him.

“I need to get there now!” Sherlock shouted

“What would you do there? There is nothing you can do!” Lestrade said.

“She isn’t answering my texts”, Sherlock was really worried.

“What did that text mean?”

 

\--

“Her boyfriend is the famous one. He’ll get you attention in media. Justice”, Patricia told him.

“Please, don’t”, I begged instantly.

“Some low level footballer isn’t helping”, the man told us.

“He is dating that--" Patricia started to tell his name.

“SHUT UP”, man shouted.

Everyone did what they could, to save their own lives, apparently. But I wouldn’t tell.

 

“Can’t you let her go? She was still at the university on that time.” Harriet asked. She meant me.

I was sure he was never letting anyone of use go.

“You are younger than my daughter was”, the man said.

“But I wasn’t working there either. I was at Manchester at that time and I don’t think Patricia was at London either. No one of us was.”

“Actually that leaves just—oh.” Patricia started.

And we all knew. It was very simple deduction for me. I had known for a long time, but for them it was news. 

 

Harriet stood up. “I’m sorry for the error that I might have caused. Please let them go”.

“You don’t remember!” Man shouted.

“No”, Harriet said with calm voice.

It was a simple word.

It was acceptance.

It was what caused more action than any of the sentences we spoke earlier. One word with an impact. A blind anger for a word. For a person. For an action done years ago.

 

That was the first time that I saw anyone got shot. 

 

It echoed in my ears. The sound. It was loud. Harriet’s eyes were on me. She didn’t realise it at first, but I saw her blouse getting tinted with red liquid. It was in her fingers when she touched her stomach. Blood tainted fingers and prints on her shirt. She tried to hold on to a table when her knees gave up. There was a question in her eyes. I wanted to go to her. The man dropped his weapon to the floor. “What have I done? What have I done?” He was sobbing.

I run to Harriet. I hold her down, pressed my small fingers on top of her red shirt. What did I know about first-aid? Nothing helpful. My mind was so blank. Ann was holding the gun. She had picked it up from the floor. Patricia run away, maybe for help. 

“That really hurts”, her voice was uneven. Harriet was trembling. Her face pale and sweaty. What did I know about getting shot?  
“What do I do?” I was going to panic. “Paramedics will be here soon”; I said. Was it true, I didn’t know. Maybe it was to calm me as well us to help Harriet. They had to come here soon. They needed to be here soon. First it was police. I couldn’t really pay attention on what was happening, all my concentration was keeping my hands on her stomach and my eyes on hers. 

“Don’t look away”, she begged. 

 

I was her strength. My look was supposed to give her strength. 

 

Then somebody was holding my wrists, pulling me away from her. It was the same hands that took me away from the room. 

“That’s her, send confirmation”, I hear someone saying.

I could see paramedics looking after Harriet. Hands pulled me to the end of the hallway, to the those slow lifts. I was shaking. I was trembling. I couldn’t. I just sat down to the grounds as my knees gave up and hands holding me weren’t expecting that and let go. But then they were back on my shoulders and trying to make eye contact. I was sobbing tears on a lift’s floor around officers.  
“Fifth floor.”  
I hated the talking lift breaking my brains silence with an electronic woman’s voice. But it wasn’t really silence around me. People spoke, made noise, radios chattering, but none of that was really something I heard.  
“Ground floor. Doors opening.” I heard again. The police pulled me up from the floor. I walked slowly with no recognition of the place even though I had been there. I was guided to an office at the right side of the lifts and helped to sit on a chair. Someone was touching my hands, cleaning them from blood. I didn’t care. I could still feel Harriet’s warm blood under my hands.  
I could hear a snapping sound, fingers making the sound in front of my face. “Look at here. Come on, look at here”. So I looked at the source of the voice. I didn’t know him.  
“There you go. It’s all fine now. You are safe. Are you hurt?”

Was it a question to me? It wasn’t Harriet’s eyes looking at me. I wasn’t there anymore.

“Are you hurt”, the voice demanded an answer. I looked at him again. “Can you tell me, are you hurt?”

I tried to find my voice, to move my tong, to open my mouth. My tong felt so heavy and swollen, throat dry like filled with smoke. I felt the smoke. I could smell the smoke. I opened my eyes again. I could see no smoke. My throat wasn’t swollen. I wasn’t there. I was here, in a busy office with police. People, paramedics, were worried.

“No”, I said then, remembered the question.

“Are you not hurt? No cuts, bruises, anything?”

I felt sick. How could I be alright and Harriet… Harriet. I closed my eyes again, but there was pain, fear and anxiety. 

“Keep your eyes open.”

There was the smoke.

I bite my lip and faced his eyes again.

“You are in shock”

“I guess so”, said my voice.

He put a blanket around me. “Let’s take you to a hospital. Can you walk? Do you want to walk to the ambulance?”

I stood up slowly, not letting the blanket fall. One of the police officers came with me and the paramedics. “You need to give statement there.”

 

Nobody asked what had happened. Not yet. I just let the hands on my back guide me. I said nothing. I tried not to smell the smoke in the fresh air out of the building. It wasn’t there, I told myself, it was just imagination. But it was so dark. The heavy smoke filled to room in my head. My hands were aching. My wrist hurt so badly. I could barely breathe. “Open your eyes. Miss, you need to open your eyes.”

“Are you having flashbacks from something?”

There I was, sitting on that hospital bed holding a cup of hot tea. I just hold the cup, didn’t drink. The cup was warmer than Harriet’s blood had been. I pulled myself back to this world from those images. Tea was so hot on my lips. “How is Harriet?” I asked.

“Miss, you need to fill out this”, it was a nurse speaking.

“I need to know”, I repeated the question.

“Please, fill out this”, the nurse handed the chart to me.

The police who came there with me was speaking on the phone in a hallway next to the exit door, when the doors swung open. He was there, here. That big coat open, displaying his expensive suite, blue scarf around his deck. The expression on his face was filled with anxiety. He tried to smile a little when he saw me. I felt so like crying and my eyes filled with tears when he hugged me. He hold me against him.

“Sir, I need to ask you to leave”, the nurse spoke.

“Shut up. Don’t you see she need me”, Sherlock said.

“The hospital policy—“

“I don’t care”, he said.

I wept like a child in his arms. I hold him more tightly than ever. I was blind to everything except his whispering voice in my ear, “You are safe now. You are safe now”.

He was here and that was all that mattered. I was safe with him. I was always safe with him.  
“You were so cleaver”, he told me while standing next to me holding my hand.

“Miss, we will need your statement”, the police told me.

“She will give it tomorrow at London”, Sherlock said.

“It is important that—“

“Talk to your superiors”, Sherlock told him.

“I must ask you to leave”, the nurse started again.

“Are you okay”, Sherlock asked me.

I nodded.

“Then we will leave”, Sherlock said.

“I must protest. It’s not—“, the nurse began to say.

“We are leaving”, Sherlock said.

“I just want to go home”, I said.

“She will meet a doctor there, if she will need one”, Sherlock promised.

 

After a while the nurse brought the discharge paper reluctantly. Apparently the police officer had heard from his higher officers that my statement could be dealt at Yard and we could leave.  
“Sherlock, I need to know. Harriet. Is she, is she…” I couldn’t say it. Remember the look in her eyes. 

“She is in surgery. That’s all I know”, he said.

“I need to know”, I said.

“I will tell you as soon as I know more” And he texted to someone for a while as we walked out from the hospital and took a cap. “To the train station”

“What about—“

“Your belongings will follow”, he said.

“Oh.” I didn’t ask how, he would get it sorted. And then when we were sitting on a first train to London in quiet carriage. He was sitting on the window seat and I was almost sleeping in his lap, but I couldn’t close my eyes. I was holding his hand to feel even safer. We just stayed quiet there in the moving train until I asked, “What time is it?”

“Quarter to six”, he told me.

“I thought it was later”, I said.

“It has been a long day”, he said.

“Please, don’t say I told you so”, I begged.

“I would never say that to you. It was unpredictable”, Sherlock said quietly.

Was it really. “Thank you”.

“For?”

“You understood it”.

“You were so cleaver”, he murmured.

“Not really”, I said.

“Nobody would have known, not… I…I was so…” He looked for a word. “Concerned or worried. Not either of those words is right. It was… You weren’t there. You weren’t safe. I couldn’t think. I… It wasn’t fine”.

“It wasn’t fine”, I repeated and kissed him. I knew what he meant even thought he could find words for it.

“How did you get there?”

“Mycroft”, Sherlock mumbled.

“He must think I’m more trouble than I’m worth”, I said.

“You are everything.”

We stayed silent.

“I was so worried about you and the baby when I heard. When I heard that someone got shot… I… I couldn’t. I would have killed that man and I wouldn’t have cared about the consequences.”

“I’m alright. The baby is fine. Don’t worry”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One thing I can promise, you don't have to wait for the next chapter as long as this one. :)


	21. Newspapers, All Those Fairy Tales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How can the papers know about what happened in Nottingham? How can the papers know about her and Sherlock?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is finally. I'm sorry it took so long if there even is anyone who is reading this. I'm not sure about this chapter at all, but here it is...

In the morning I woke up from my bed. I had had nightmares, but Sherlock had been there and I had fallen back to sleep finally. It was near midday by then and I heard voices from living room. I quickly dressed and went there. 

“How can they know? Who would tell this information?” It was Sherlock who spoke. He was clearly frustrated.

“What are you talking about”, I asked. John and Sarah were at the living room too. “What’s happened?”

“The papers, blogs, everything! I wanted to keep you out of this!” Sherlock said. “I’m sorry”, from his voice I knew he meant it, but I didn’t understand why he was apologising. 

“Are you alright”, Sarah asked and gave me a cup of tea.

“Fine. What’s going on?” I asked, disregarded her question with that one word.

“It’s all out”, Sherlock said.

“Somebody leaked it”, John handed me the papers, one of them had Sherlock’s picture on front but it wasn’t about him. “Net detective deduced in love”. I put down the tea cup and looked at the papers.  
There was my picture on the next page. It was the picture that was in my work ID. But there were some pictures from previous day, where I was walking outside of the university, hands still half covered with blood. And one more picture. It was me and Sherlock on train back from Nottingham. I had my head resting against him, his arms were around me. My eyes were closed and he was looking at me so tenderly. He didn’t look like the way most of people saw him. Now the look, the gentle way he could be, was there in the picture for everyone to see. I felt that the picture was violating our relationship, everything that was private, and everything that was just for two of us. 

The paper’s anonymous source, who was apparently close to Sherlock’s girlfriend, spoke about what had happened in Nottingham and told a lot of things about me. That was just one newspaper. Then apparently there was the blogs. All the things they had found out just by googling my name. Really old pictures from my facebook account. The thing they made a huge number was my age. I wasn’t that much younger than Sherlock, not really. 

That was just one of the papers.

“You better keep to yourself for the next few days”, John said.

“Is all of this true, about what happened in Nottingham”, Sarah asked.

“Pretty much”, I said.

“Don’t look anything at the internet, it’s all rubbish. Not worth it”, John said.

“Now you say that, you are the blogger among us”, Sherlock said.

“You have a website”, John said back to him.

“They did quote your blog in the newspaper as when you started giving hints about someone new in Sherlock’s live and you moving out”, Sarah said.

“It’s fine”, I said. “I do know how vague you blog was about it. I do read it nowadays”. 

There it all was; the papers, the pictures, and websites with articles, blogs and gossips. I hated it. There was just one person who could have told the story. The same one, who had told, revealed that Harriet had been at the office at that time. 

“How could she…” I wondered aloud.

“You know the source”, Sherlock said. 

“There is only one who it could have been”, I said.

“I see”, he must have guessed who I meant.

“So, what did happen there, are you really alright?” Sarah asked. “Did you go to see a doctor?”

“Pretty much, what she told the papers. Although, it was her who told the man, about who was working at the office at that time. Harriet—“, my voice trembled. “She – she told him to let me go, that I was still at university at that time”, I told them.

I closed my eyes and tried not to cry. But closing eyes was mistake. There was just the picture of her and my hands filled with blood. 

I took my tea back to sink and poured it away and washed the cup and my hands.  
It wasn’t enough. I had to wash my hands again. They still felt covered in her blood. By the time I reached for the soap for the third time, there were hands covering mine. 

“They are clean”, his hands were around me and pulled me away from the sink. He gently dried my hands with towel. “Come on now. I’ll make you a new cup of tea. You need to eat something. We need to visit the Yard. Sarah wants to see your yesterday’s hospital papers. They are in you handbag”. Sherlock spoke so quietly that John and Sarah couldn’t hear his words at living room.

“I’m a mess, aren’t I”, I said.

“It’s normal”, he said.

“You wouldn’t react like that”, I insisted. He would never.

“I would if it was someone I cared about. If it would be someone I loved I wouldn’t be able to function.” He kissed my head. “I was so scared for you yesterday”, all those words were hard for him to admit. No matter how much he loved me it was still a strange feeling, to care, for him. “I couldn’t be calm. Distant. Just to observe”.

“I’m fine. I’m here in one piece”, I said.

“You don’t need to comfort me”, Sherlock said. 

“But—“

“Shhh. Look at me”, he said, lowered himself a bit and pressed our foreheads together. “You are fine. I’ll find out everything about Harriet. But for me, I need you to promise something important. You need to promise. You need to take care of yourself. That’s what comes first, before anything else.”

“I’ll try”, I said.

“That’s not really good enough”, Sherlock was frustrated. “You mean too much to me. I can’t let you be in such a situations. It could be you…”

“I’m here. Think about how I only know afterwards about everything you do with John. I need to trust you to be alright. I’m alright now.”

I managed to eat a bit of yoghurt and promise Sarah I would call if I felt I needed it. I put on my jacket and I left to Yard with Sherlock. There were reporters outside of 221B. Flashing lights of cameras. Sherlock tried to block them from seeing me. Of course it wasn’t possible, but still I appreciated it. We got to the cab and talked of nothing during the car ride. He hold my hand and it meant more than I could have said. He let go when he paid the driver and we walked separately to the entrance, but there I took it again and he let me. We didn’t normally show our togetherness in public, but now I need that small thing while stepping to his world. It was his world. I had never even seen the building except from TV. Sherlock knew it. People knew him.

Quickly someone came to meet us. He was one of those rare friends Sherlock had. Someone to really trust.

“Sherlock-- I told you I would text you if something would come up”, Greg said.

“Oh, that”, Sherlock said as if he had really forgotten. I think he had disregarded it, whatever if had been. “We are not here for that. Detective Sergeant Eyre was supposed to meet us here in a while.”

Only then Lestrade seemed to realise that it wasn’t the normal reasons why Sherlock was there. There was I holding Sherlock’s hand. 

“I didn’t realise—Hullo! Nice to see you again. Oh well. We just keep meeting in these not normal situations.”

“These are normal for you”, I said.

“Shouldn’t be for you”, Sherlock said quietly. He wasn’t acting like he normally did.

“We should meet some time. Go to drinks at pub or something. I’ve gotta get to know the person who has such an effect to Sherlock”, Greg said.

“Effect?” Sherlock raised his eyebrows. 

“You know Sherlock, it’s not that you’re a gre—Well, you know. She’s clearly good for you”, Greg said.

“I know”, it was so quiet words.

“Good. Drinks somewhere at some point”, Greg said.

“How about I cook you dinner at some evening?” I suggested. It was the only solution I quickly came up to ditch the idea of pub. I wasn’t sure what Sherlock was going to say to that. “And you two are not just going to talk about cases”.

“But—“, Sherlock started to speak.

I looked firmly Sherlock.

“I’ll text you, Lestrade”, he finished then.

“He has a first name, you know”, I said when Greg had left and DS Eyre was just walking towards us.

“Why did you promise him that? You could have just said no or I could--”, Sherlock spoke.

“I wanted to. If it makes you feel better about it, ask John and Sarah too”, I told him.

 

DS Eyre had barely worked with Sherlock, but she couldn’t tolerate him. I understood it in a weird way. 

“You can’t be present in the statement.” She said.

Sherlock tried to convince her to agree him to stay just like he normally would try to convince any police. I stopped it.

“It’s alright. Just go and buy me a sandwich or something. Please?” I asked and he left.

“You can make him do that?” DS was surprised.

“He is my boyfriend. Of course.” Not always and I didn’t take it as granted. 

“So, if we first talk about yesterday’s events, we can talk about if you want to press charges to press—“, DS Eyre said and went back to being professional and stopped being so, whatever she was, about Sherlock.

“That’s fine. It would just make it worse”, I said. It would, I didn’t want any attention from media.

“That’s true”, she agreed.

She asked questions, I talked, gave the statement. It was all professional. Procedure. It just took a long while. It was hard to talk about it. I tried to see it all as an outsider. It was easier that way. I feared for Harriet’s sake. I needed to know about her. I needed to know she was going to be alright.

 

“Could we take a break?” I asked after a while.

“Of course if that’s what you need”, she said.

“I just”, I took a deep breath. I didn’t want to feel that just now, but that slight nausea had been there all morning, well, since I woke up. It was already so bad to think about all that. “Is there toilet nearby?” I couldn’t help the so obvious sign of keeping my hand on my mouth. I hated that I had tried fight of that feeling for a while. 

“Yes, of course”, she pointed me to the direction. More than that. She opened all the doors before me. 

I hated the feeling. I hated trying to keep my hair back. I hated feeling so weak.

I wished I was home and I could flash some water to my face. Lie in bed for a while. Just for a moment be off my feet, to be able to lay still. I felt so annoyingly weak. She was still there watching my reflection from mirror. 

“I-- Could we really take a break? I want to find out did Sherlock actually got that sandwich to me”, I said.

“If you need that”, she said and really meant that it would be better if I could continue straight away.

“Or tea”, I tried to compromise.

“That might me easier”, she said with attempt of a smile.

“That’s just as fine. I can try—. No. Actually. No. I really need it”, I couldn’t just think about barely feeling good enough to sit and talk. I had nothing in my system. I needed to eat and purely the caffeine from tea would be bad.

“Medical reason?” She asked, apparently we needed a proper reason.

“Could be said so”, I said. I wasn’t going to say about it more.

“I get it”, she said and smiled in comforting way.

“Please, don’t talk around about it”, I asked her to. “I really need to eat something”

 

We took a break. I texted Sherlock and he came back really quickly, just gave me the sandwich. He couldn’t stay longer than few words. 

He tried to deduce it, “this is too much for you”.

“It’s not that”, I said. I was tired.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” I tried to say, mouth full of that sandwich. I didn’t want to say that I hated it as I didn’t, but still. “Just not feeling very well. We can talk later”.

He pressed his thumb on my cheek and just looked me in the eyes for a moment without saying a thing and then he left. 

 

I really needed that sandwich, as horrible as it was it helped. After the chance to eat I was calmer and we quickly finished my description.

“This is one of the most detailed descriptions I have ever heard”, DS Eyre said.

“Sorry”.

“Sorry?”

“I tend to notice details”, I said.

“There is nothing wrong with them”, she said. “For some reason your statement is only thing we can use from you. You have been forbidden to participate to the future trial as everything else regarding you, have been made classified.” She told me.

“Oh”. Mycroft, it had to be.

“You didn’t know?”

“Well, I’m not too surprised”, I said.

“You are then even more than Sherlock with your connections”, she said.

“No. Not at all. I just… I’m just normal. His brother, well, Sherlock is more useful to these kinds of things. That just probably happened because of him.”  
It was so, but for a moment I thought about it. I could be working for Mycroft. It could be really me, the reason for the classification. It felt so odd idea.

\---

The media thing took only luckily about a week to calm down, there was more important news. There was real celebrities and gossips. 

On Monday I went to office. I had to. We were two employees short. Patricia was no longer working in the company. It was so quiet at the office. I was the first one there. My boss came next. He was worried just like everyone else. He asked me to his office for a chat as first thing in the morning. We talked about Nottingham. He wanted to make sure I was alright. As a junior staff member now I had to step up my game to replace, to cover for Harriet and Patricia. He was also curious about the papers.  
“There have been secrecy about your quick rising, but I have noticed it have been your own talent. He is not helping you, is he?”  
“Of course not. I wouldn’t be working if I was interested about the stuff he works with.”

“But it’s true?”

“Is what true? My personal life doesn’t have anything to do with my work”

“I apologise”

“Would you be interested on a position—“, he began to ask.

“No thank you”, I said, it was clear what he was trying to offer.

“But—“

“I still have a lot to learn at this position”, I said.

“Alright, for now”, boss left the subject quite easily.

\--

 

So I’m not quite sure how it happened, I got a kind of friend from DS Eyre, Margaret. We sometimes met for coffee when neither of us was too busy with work or just with life. It was one of those times when she asked my help.

“I can’t help you”, I said. “I don’t want to get involved to that world. I don’t want… I can’t. No. One time was close enough”.

“Nottingham wasn’t—“

“I don’t mean that”, I said.

“Oh. What then?”

“I almost died. I don’t... I can’t… I… I just can’t. John saved me”. I took a breath slowly. “I can’t risk what I have now. Not even then. I was just a piece at a chessboard.”

“Now you could be the queen of the board”, she offered.

“I’m just not interested. I could be any moving piece I wanted to, but I don’t. I just want a normal life. A Normal job. Sherlock is the one extraordinary thing of my life and that’s enough.” I said.

“Alright”, she promised to let it go.

“I wish I could help, but I just can’t. Not like that”, I said.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll figure out something”, Margaret said.

“You could ask for Sherlock’s help”, I tried.

“He wouldn’t be interested. This is too boring case for him”, she said.

“He might do it if I ask”, I said.

“Would you do that?”

“I could”, I offered. “But just, don’t trust Sherlock. He is brilliant, makes result, but doesn’t always play by the book”.

“Oh”

“Nothing criminal, just on the edges of grey area”, I said. She had to think about it first, did she really want his help the way she had dared to ask for my help.

 

\--

 

Harriet was going to be fine. It was going to take time, but she was going to be fine. I had fewer nightmares. 

It was the third time in that month when I was at boss’s office for the same reason. I didn’t want more public role on the company or promotion for nothing. 

No, I did not want to be in that position at work. I didn’t want any publicity. I did the one thing I could. I gave my resignation letter. One week of work left. I would find something else. There was also that one opportunity that I had said I might accept if he offered. Sherlock knew the moment I stepped home that I had quit my job, but I was surprised when he asked, “Do you want Mycroft’s number?”

I hadn’t expected that he would be so okay with it. “Would that really be fine?”

“I would know you are safe”, he said. “It would be challenging for you. I don’t like it, but I accept it”.

“Very grown up of you”, I said and smiled.

“I do try sometimes”, Sherlock said.

“Only sometimes. Luckily I like you that way”, I said.

“Only like? Should I be hurt?” He asked.

“Well, I know I’m here just for to make you tea and ease your boredom, so it should be fine with you”, I teased him again.

“And for sexual favours”, he said.

“Those are what I use you for”, I said and smirked.

“Is that right? Do you want to take advance of me now?”

“I thought it was rather obvious to a genius like you”, I said. “After I want you brother’s number”.

“Now you are just trying deliberately to ruin the mood”, Sherlock said and walked to me.

“Oh, why would I do that?” I said and kissed him.

 

On next morning just before leaving to work I called Mycroft, well actually I left him a voicemail. “If you would offer me job, I might accept”, was pretty much all I said. 

Four full days left of the week and at midday I got email instructions, to my own email address, for next week and first week of new job. That was settled then. I was working for British government or MI5, 6 or something. I didn’t even know. I giggled for a bit, maybe I was a spy then. My life was just becoming odder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm feeling more and more insecure about this story. Especially because it's mostly written, but it just needs something for every chapter, but those are the hardest part to write. I think I've actually avoided this story, it just doesn't feel the way it felt first. Few more chapters to go. For some reason I feel embarrassed because of this chapter. But please, tell me, what did you think?


End file.
